Beyond Routine
by Mustard Lady
Summary: They'd experienced this kind of nightmare before and didn't want to go through it again. After a balling out from her tyrannical boss, Steve's oldest daughter, Stacy Sloan is charged with murder! With pretty conclusive evidence against her, a heartbroken Steve drives himself up a wall, desperate to prove her innocent! Can Mark and the gang solve the murder before she is convicted?
1. Chapter 1 Just Like Any Other Week

**Okay, so I was hoping to post this story later on after building my OC characters up, but the ideas for this one just keep coming to me, so I decided to post it next. Hope you don't mind. I don't own any of the original Diagnosis Murder characters or the show, but I love them, as much as I love the Disney Pixar Toy Story characters. Reviews are definitely welcome and would be helpful, especially since I'm new to the DM Fanfiction community. I hope someone likes this story despite all of the drama it's going to contain, and I'm excited to be sharing it with you.**

 **I'm also currently working on a crossover fanfic between Diagnosis Murder and Sue Thomas FBEye, another great favorite of our family!**

 **I keep Delores, Norman, Jack Stewart-though he's not gonna be in every story-, Chief Masters, Captain Newman, and Tannis Archer in my fanfics.**

 **Well, read on and I hope you like it.**

* * *

Today looked like it was going to start out like every other week. Dr. Mark Sloan smiled warmly as he stared outside the window in the doctor's lounge. It was a beautiful spring day out in the middle of May, and he was taking this rare moment of quiet to reflect on his life at the moment.

He was in his late sixties, but still feeling as young and eager as ever, and still enjoyed helping his son solve cases. And, he still managed to sneak his roller skates into the hospital when he had the notion! He had a wonderful family, and lately it felt like the dark side of life had decided to leave them alone for a while. No revengeful criminals had appeared back for a while, no homicide cases that hit painfully close to home, or any new low-lives had been out to kill them for a couple months. It was so nice for the Sloan family and their friends not be living in shadows right now!

His son, Lt. Steve Sloan, a widowed father to two daughters, and a great cop, was still working as homicide detective for the LAPD. He not only loved but also firmly in his job to serve and protect the helpless, the victimized, and the weak. Mark's son had been through a lot: he carried several injuries over the years under his belt, some very life-threatening; his wife, Julie had died on him from cancer, just like his mom; he'd had to raise two motherless girls by himself-not counting wonderful assistance from Mark, Amanda, and at times, Delores, and Jessie too when he came along-, which hadn't been easy, tougher than Steve had imagined; he'd seen more horrific scenarios on the job than he wanted to count; his loved ones had been threatened with danger many times before in so many different ways, and nearly killed even; he'd nearly slipped into eternity while his dear father was being framed, arrested, convicted, and sentenced to death for murders he didn't commit; he, Jessie, Mark, and Amanda had all nearly perished in their own hospital when Katelyn Sweeney had blown it up; he'd lost his little sister to murder; he'd had to arrest his best friend Jessie on the charge of murder. Just to name a few. How Mark vividly remembered those times, and how he'd suffered just as much as Steve, especially watching his son endure it all.

Mark felt incredibly blessed for the indescribable love and friendship he and his family had from beautiful, sweet Dr. Amanda Bentley and ambitious, eager Dr. Jessie Travis. It was hard to put into words what wonderful gems they were, and Mark had earned every bit of it from them through his kindness, compassion, love, and genuine caring spirit. And Dr. Jack Stewart was one of Mark's 'children' too. The street kid with an attitude had developed into a handsome, slick-working, curious, shrewd, but faithful doctor and friend. Everyone except Jessie remembered the old days when Jack not only wormed his way into helping Steve and Mark solve crimes, but had been so deviously clever in fooling the bad guys into thinking he was one of them, which led him to information and secrets. In those days, you never knew where Jack was going to turn up! When Jessie had first come to Community General, Jack had moved from LA to Aspen, Colorado to open a private practice. There he'd worked in pediatrics, but everyone had missed him, especially Stacy and Kat who had adopted him as their older brother. Jessie felt that way to them now, except in a different way, more like a young uncle: so Jessie didn't take over Jack's role, they more or less shared it. Jack had occasionally returned now and then on sabbaticals. Many months after news reached him of Community General being bombed by the Sweeneys, then having to be reconstructed, Jack had decided he'd been away long enough so he had pulled up stakes and moved back to LA, much to everybody's joy and delight! He now worked again at Community General, down in pediatrics, so his family/friends circle got to spend time with him again! Right now though, he was on a year-long overseas medical mission in the Philippines.

Mark's two granddaughters, Stacy and 'Kat' Katherine, named after his wife, were very dear to him. They were both special in his eyes with their different personalities, dreams, goals, and gifts, and he felt honored that he'd been able to be instrumental in helping his son bring them up.

Friendly, outgoing, optimistic, blonde-haired and blue-eyed Stacy, who had just celebrated her twenty-second birthday, was now a grown woman and was living her dream of becoming a writer, currently as an investigative reporter for _The Los Angeles Times._ The two Sloan girls had grown up around crime-solving, and they had inherited their family circle's passion and thrill of stopping the bad guys. Stacy's dream was to write novels someday, but she'd chosen investigative reporter as a career so she could both do what she liked best and at the same time assist Steve her dad in solving cases, which gave her a wonderful feeling of being able to contribute in an important way to society. Stacy had always been the chatterbox of the family and she had an easily trusting nature towards people, which had led her to some unpleasant disappointments in the past. Stacy laughed easily and liked to look on the bright side of life as much as possible, though through her family's line of work, she'd learned a lot of how ugly scenarios in life could be, but that was one reason she preferred to be cheerful.

Kind, reserved, perceptive, brunette-haired and hazel-eyed Katherine, called 'Kat' by family and close friends, was 19 and pursuing her college degree as a social worker and working part time at a daycare center. Her desire had always been to help people, especially children, and she'd had years' worth of babysitting under her belt, counting CJ and Deon Bentley. She also wanted to make a donation of her service to the world, and hoped that by becoming a social worker, she could try to make some people's lives better. Many people noticed how Kat resembled Steve, not only with the dark hair, but also in other ways. She was very thoughtful and caring, but as said was reserved and could sometimes appear stern like her dad when she felt she had to be. She was strong-willed, and a very confident person. She was the take charge kind and usually succeeded in her efforts with valid capability. Though a good listener, especially to sad ears, Kat was more of a blunt person and would tell it like it was, without sugar coating or exaggerating. She was very straight forward like Steve, and he couldn't disagree that she was definitely her father's daughter.

Then there was Annie, the lovable, affectionate, pretty Australian Shepherd dog who had become part of their family ever since the day when Kat was twelve and had brought the dog home to live, much to Steve's shock and protests. They all loved their playful dog, and she'd grown up with the girls during their adolescent years. Steve had at first not been too thrilled about having a strange dog in the house, and had had no trouble trying to discourage even the canine from the idea. But Annie had overlooked his stern manner and eventually found his soft spot. Steve had to admit, it was fun having a dog around, expect when she ran right under his feet, stared up at him eagerly during meal time, and wouldn't stop her anxious greeting him at the door until he's pet her. He usually called her _dog,_ but Annie knew Steve's voice when he'd say it, and she would shake with delight almost anytime he called her that. Annie was loyal and loved her whole family, but for some unexplained reason, Steve had always seemed to be her favorite person in the house. Maybe that was because he'd taken the longest to give into her affections!

And there was Delores and Norman. Delores Mitchell, Mark's beautiful but very feisty secretary had been a great friend of his for years and the whole Sloan family loved her. She had kind of played the role of 'adopted mother, aunt, and principal' to all of them, including Mark! None of them could imagine life without her. And Norman Briggs? Well, Norman was, uh...well, kind of...Norman had made his way into the friend circle, though no one could exactly explain how he had done it, but they all cared about him and he was a faithful friend to them, though sometimes he was the last one to be informed of a situation or invited to a gathering. Still, Delores and Norman added lots of very not dull moments to their lives.

Oh, Alex and Madison had found their way into the Sloans' hearts too. Young Dr. Alex Smith, one of the Community General interns had been working there for a few years now, and he loved it and the people. Jessie had become a young mentor to him, but Alex truly admired Mark a lot. The Sloans adored him: Steve had taken the role as adoptive father or big brother, depends on how you looked at it, and Alex had great respect for him; Jessie and Amanda looked on him as a younger brother; Stacy and Kat enjoyed his company and looked on him as a great adoptive brotherly friend. One thing that made Alex different from his large circle of family/friends was that he didn't go out of his way to involve himself in their murder mysteries. Dr. Madison Wesley was a good friend, and Mark found himself in her company very often. She was attractive, caring, stubborn, gentle, competitive, and very bright. At this moment, Dr. Wesley had just left for a week-long medical conference in Denver. She'd invited Alex to go with her, believing it would be very educational for him.

Mark chuckled, thinking of his family and friends, how different they all were but appreciating their differences that made them who they were, the people he deeply cared for and loved. Life had been pretty peaceful for the most part of recent, and Mark took in every moment of it.

His thoughts were interrupted by a younger, chipper voice behind him. "Hey, Mark!" Jessie greeted enthusiastically. Mark turned and smiled at the vigorous ER doctor whom had become like his younger son.

"Jessie!" Mark replied, as his colleague gave him a brief but friendly hug. "It's good to see you, son." Mark punched his shoulder. "I'm glad you're back. How was your vacation?"

"Aw, it was fun and restful." Jessie shrugged. "Killed a lot of time out on the water, and actually found some time to take a few rides out in the country. It's really pretty out there, but it's always good to be back. How are you?"

"Great! Great." Mark smiled widely. "Life's been good."

"That's super." Jessie replied, pulling on his white lab coat and placing his stethoscope around his neck. "Hey, how does Stace like the new photo album I gave her for her birthday?"

Mark chuckled. "Already filling it up. The very next day, she rushed to get recent pictures developed and then spent the afternoon inserting them in and labeling them. You made an excellent choice, Jess. And the right color too."

"I seem to remember someone telling me before that purple is her favorite." Jessie nodded. "What's Kat been up to since I've been away?"

"You've only been gone three days. But, she's working really hard to finish up her studies. School ends next week for summer break, and she's really trying to make sure she has everything wrapped up."

"Summer break already? Ooo. I bet she's looking forward to that!"

"Mmm-hmm." Mark nodded. "Unfortunately, the daycare center she's been working at just closed because the woman running it has just been diagnosed with cancer and she can't make a run of it anymore."

"Aww," Jessie cocked his head sympathetically. "Man, that's tough."

"Yeah, but she gave Kat some references and now she's trying to get a job at a different daycare."

"Good for her. Hope she gets one. _So,_ has Steve gotten into any good mischief lately?" Jessie sneered.

"Eh, not much." Mark shook his head. "No more than usual, that is. Of course, you haven't been around to coerce him." Jessie pffted with his lips.

"So, what ya got for me today?" Jessie asked, waiting for his patients' charts.

"You have a full schedule, that's for sure!" Mark declared, handing Jessie the clipboard. "I guess your patients are trying to make up for lost time since you left." He joked.

"A dislocated arm, a sore throat, measles, severe poison ivy...oh, boy." Jessie remarked and cleared his throat. "You weren't kidding. Well, looks like this is starting out just like any other week."

"Yep. Hey, you busy Wednesday night?" Mark asked.

"I'll have to check my shift schedule. Why?"

"I was hoping you and Amanda would come join us for dinner." Mark answered. "It's been a while since we've eaten together with a home-cooked meal."

"Hey! I'd like that!" Jessie's eyes lit up at the prospect of spending time at Mark and Steve's beach house, spending time with his friends, and relishing in their excellent cooking. "You're on! I'll be there! Uh, if I can make it, that is."

"Good!" Mark cheered. "We'll look forward to it."

"Well, gotta go." Jessie shrugged. "It's Monday, and starting out just like any other week."

"Yep." Mark agreed.

"See ya, Mark."

"See ya later, Jess." Mark smiled and after taking another glance out the window, left the lounge to do his own rounds. Yes, today was starting just like any other week. But he had no idea how soon that would drastically change. Their next painful trial was just around the corner!


	2. Chapter 2 The Hawk Eye

**Some things included in the story may appear insignificant.**

* * *

 **Tuesday**

"Oh, this is ridiculous." Stacy huffed impatiently, with her head bowed down under her desk.

"What, you burying your head in the sand already? The vulture isn't around _yet_!" Mavis Anders, one of _The Los Angeles Times_ editors joked. She stood by with her hands full of a pile of papers. She laughed at Stacy Sloan.

"No." Stacy retorted. "I know I brought a knife and fork from home yesterday along with my lunch. But I can't find the knife! You saw me using it yesterday didn't you?"

"Yes." Mavis nodded.

"Where is the silly thing? It couldn't just wander around an office, without _someone_ noticing!" Stacy declared, wide-eyed.

"Uh-oh." Mavis said in a warning tone.

"What?" Stacy gaped nervously.

"Forget about an unimportant kitchen utensil. Here he comes!" Mavis exclaimed, her eyes on the door at the far end of the room beyond all the other writers, typing furiously at their desks or speaking simultaneously on the phones, each engrossed in their own case. In the doorway at the far end of the large work area, in stepped Horace Loomis himself. The tall, dark brown bearded, big boss of this entire paper, Horace Loomis, clad in a dark business suit glanced around suspiciously over his army of writers. Two other gentlemen stood next to him. Mr. Loomis's piercing glare was enough to send even the most big-headed worker into a fast-paced task. "Oh dear," Mavis shook her head. "Which prey is he scouting around for today?"

"I don't know," Bob Mosher, one of the photographers remarked as he sipped his coffee. "But I 'd just keep right on working if I were you. He's out for blood today. Someone's heading for the cutting board!"

"I hope you're wrong!" Stacy gasped and sat up straight in her chair and tried to focus her attention on her computer. It was so hard though. She could never understand how Horace Loomis of all people had made it to the position of director of this large paper. His imposing presence was heavily felt in the air, and always spelled danger if someone had stepped into his cross-hairs, intentional or not. It was very difficult to concentrate on one's task with the shadow of the hawk-eye looming about.

"Johnson!" Loomis bellowed loud and clear over the constant keys typing and buttons dialing.

"Oh no. Not Becky!" Stacy gulped. A young woman with shoulder length black hair frightfully looked up at her tall, strong lunged employer.

"What could she have possibly done?" Bob moaned in protest, removing his black glasses.

"He'll find something. Valid or not." Mavis shrugged. "He always does."

"Johnson, get over here!" Loomis hollered. Becky rose from her seat and timidly walked over to Loomis and the two other men.

"Y-yes, sir?" She gulped.

"I suppose you know Mr. Bryant and his attorney, Mr. Giles?" Becky's face fell.

"Yes." She bit her lip.

"They've come to me with less than flattering reports about you," Loomis growled. "I'm confident their grounds are well founded."

"Ugh!" Bob growled. "How dare he!"

"We have some unpleasant business to discuss." Loomis continued. "In my chambers, now!" Becky shook her head sadly as the other two men sneered triumphantly. "Stilton! You too! I need your testimony." He yelled across the room. A short, dark and curly-haired man with red glasses who was sitting at his corner desk right across from Stacy's, anxiously jumped to his feet and hurried over to the group. His eyes had actually lit up as he passed the curious, disgusted trio. The unpleasant group adjourned from the work area.

"Poor Becky." Stacy said sympathetically. "With Henry in on it, she doesn't stand a chance."

"That sniveling, silver-tongued, pompous little worm." Bob snarled.

"I guess we'll find out soon enough." Mavis sighed. "Let's try to get some work done before he comes back with his whip." She left the room.

Bob huffed heavily and went back to work too, and Stacy tried to concentrate on her own report, but it was so hard. Becky Johnson was a good reporter, and not abusive in her career as some often were. Stacy couldn't imagine what Becky could possibly be in trouble for, though Mr. Loomis had a habit of turning up grisly pieces of information, justified or not, when he was out on the hunt. He listened to no excuses, and was hot-tempered. His hostile, perfectionist manner kept his workers on their toes, that must have been why he was the boss. Yet, it would still be a relief not to have to work under an intimidating headship who always seemed to be just waiting for your foot to slip so that he could overload his granted power over you! And with Henry Stilton most likely blackening Becky's side of the story, the poor girl was defenseless in her version of whatever argument they were having.

"Lord, please watch over Becky." Stacy prayed anxiously. "Please don't let him get her in trouble for no reason! She needs Your help. Please help her." Stacy's eyes fell back on the report she was supposed to be working on. It was hard to gather facts and eye witness accounts around in her mind while one of her earnest coworkers was undergoing a grilling. Half an hour later, Bob returned.

"Have you seen her? Do you know what's going on?" Stacy asked, as she noticed the grim, helpless look on his face.

"No." Bob shook his head. "I just know he's pecking her to pieces! I wish there was _something_ I could do to help her!"

"I know. I feel so bad." Stacy nodded. "I said a prayer for her."

"Yeah?" Bob remarked skeptically. "It'll take more than prayer to keep her in the clear with that ogre on the judgement seat." Stacy shrugged.

* * *

"Yeah. Sounds perfect." Amanda smiled as she leaned against the counter at the nurses' station. "Dion and CJ are both going to be at sleepovers tomorrow night. I don't see any impending reason why I can't come over for dinner tomorrow!"

"That's great." Mark smiled widely. "Then we'll plan on it. And Jesse told me this morning that his shift ends tomorrow evening at 6, so that works out perfectly. Looks like we'll all be able to have dinner together after all!"

"What about Steve?" Amanda inquired.

"I'll call him and ask. Last night, he said he should be able to, but you know how the cop business is. One minute you're free and available, and the next? You're tied up in interrogation and walking around with evidence bags."

"Full life." Amanda smirked. "For a doctor too."

"Oh, don't say that!" Mark exclaimed. "Now something's gonna happen to try and spoil our evening. Well, I'd better call him now before he gets buried in work." Mark pulled out his cell phone and paged Steve.

* * *

Steve and officer rookie, Ernie Banner were both riding in the lieutenant's car as it sped in hot pursuit of a speeding suspect, who was taking them through what seemed to be every possible red light in LA. Steve's eyes were narrowed in intense focus as he tried to close in on their prey. His red flashing light was twirling and his siren was wailing perfectly, but the blue getaway car ahead just wouldn't slow down. Ernie spoke up.

"Why don't you just shoot at him?" The young fellow asked.

"No time!" Steve growled back. "He's not shooting at us yet. Besides, we're in a highly populated area. A lot of innocent bystanders could end up in our line of fire. Come on, speedy," Steve huffed at the runaway driver, "you've gotta run out of gas or _something_ eventually! You can't keep this up forever...I hope."

"Yet? You mean he may actually start firing at us?" Ernie sputtered nervously. Steve rolled his eyes. Ernie was new and needed to learn, but he was quite shy and a little too inquisitive at the most inconvenient times.

"If he does and I tell you to get down, you duck as low as you can! Do I make myself clear?" Steve asked firmly.

"Yes!" Ernie gasped. Just then, Steve's phone rang. He growled and snatched up his phone from his pocket. Mark was trying to page him.

"Wha...not now!" Steve blurted out in great annoyance. He pressed the answer button and begrudgingly pulled the phone to his ear. "Dad, what do you need? This really isn't..."

"Sorry to bother you, son," Mark stated cheerily, "but I just wanted to know for sure if you think you'll be able to make it home for dinner tomorrow night?"

Steve shook his head, gaping. _Seriously? He's asking me about food at a time like this?_ "Dad, I'm right in the middle of..."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Mark shook his head on the other end of the line. "But Amanda and Jesse said they can come! So we can all eat together."

"Lovely." Steve muttered. "Dad, I...I gotta go. I'll call you back later. _Okay?"_

"All right. Talk to you later. Have fun." Mark chuckled then hung up.

" _Aw, yeah. Loads of fun."_ Steve groaned sarcastically and gave a heavier dose of pressure on the gas pedal.

* * *

Everyone uncomfortably shifted their eyes toward the entrance when Becky returned to the work area, followed by Henry Stilton and Horace Loomis. Becky's face was red, from anger. She vigorously sank into her chair and began typing at a belligerent pace on her computer. "What are you looking at?" Mr. Loomis growled at his employees, and they all turned back to their on hand tasks. He placed his hands on his hips and his tall figure started slinking around, looking over the writers' shoulders. Stacy gulped as she sensed his footsteps coming closer and closer. To add to her aggravation, Henry Stilton proudly walked beside Loomis as he headed back to his desk. Stacy gave a quiet snarl as he sat down. Before she knew it, Mr. Loomis's unfriendly, hot breath was hovering down her neck.

 _Oh no!_ Stacy thought as she almost froze. _What? What do you want? Go away! Go away._

"What are you trying to hide from me, Sloan?" Mr. Loomis asked dryly.

"N-nothing, sir." Stacy tried to say calmly, without facing him. "I'm just trying to put together my information on the Hawkins' case."

"Face me, young lady when you talk to me. I've told you that I don't know how many times." Mr. Loomis grunted. "I'd think by now it would've registered in your brain. Unless your little female mind is too small to hold that much information."

Stacy huffed and rolled her eyes. _Ugh. You're so insulting! You say that just because you think you can get away with it._ It didn't help that Henry was snickering from across his desk. Stacy bit her tongue hard and turned to face him, despite how much willpower it took. "Excuse me, sir." She said with great effort to keep her tone even. "But I'm really trying to get my work done. It's...uh, it's easier when someone isn't closely watching every little move I make. You make me nervous."

Mr. Loomis smiled smugly. "Glad to hear it. Shows I'm doing my job right. You have this report full and completed, and on my desk at twelve noon sharp tomorrow!"

"T-tomorrow, sir?" Stacy sputtered. _Yikes, I'm not even halfway done with it yet!_

"Tomorrow at noon sharp! You telling me you can't handle it?"

"N-no, sir."

"If you can't do the work, then just come out and say it. Then I'll get someone efficient to replace you and get some real work done around here."

"I _can_ do it." Stacy said with gritted teeth.

"Then get back to work." Mr. Loomis said. Just then, Mavis appeared.

"Horace, you don't have to be so hard on them. You could be a little nicer, you know." She smiled wryly. Mr. Loomis stared at her blankly.

"You're nothing but a measly underling editor. I could easily get rid of you right now." Mr. Loomis grunted. Mavis smiled widely and shook her head.

"Oh, you old buzzard." She said chuckled. "You can't just sabotage everyone who gets on your nerves. Who would do your work for you?"

"I'd find someone!"

"Just cool it, Horace. They're doing their jobs aren't they?" Mavis asked. Loomis shook his head and walked away.

"Mavis, how can you be so calm?" Stacy asked in astonishment. "I've tried before to be even tempered like you did, but he's still never been _that_ nice! It's not like him to walk away from an argument. I thought he enjoyed stirring up the currents in this place."

"Aw, Stace. I know he's a bit rough, and...and a monster, but you just need to keep your head."

"I still don't see how, but that's easy for _you_ to say."

"You school girls just don't understand him." Henry shook his head as he spoke. "He's a great boss. You all just don't know how to work properly under his direction like _I_ do."

"Nobody asked for _your_ opinion." Stacy retorted. Mavis patted her shoulder.

"Don't let him get to you." She said softly. "He's just a pill."

"More like a parasite." Bob said loudly and clear as he passed by. He made sure that Henry had heard him.

"Don't be such a sorehead." Henry grinned at Bob. "You just don't carry the class he's looking for, like _I_ do." Bob squared his shoulders and walked away angrily.

"I've got work to do." Stacy said and turned her eyes back to her computer. _"Boy, I'd better get on the ball! I need to have this done before 11 A.M. tomorrow or I'm heading for the stew pot!"_ She gasped in a whisper.

* * *

 **Don't worry. The next chapter will have more of the familiar characters like Mark and Steve. How am I doing? Remember, this is a murder mystery!**


	3. Chapter 3 Steve's Joke

**Thank you very much to Elise Deschat for your reviews and following my story! Your support is helpful.**

* * *

"Who was that, as if I didn't know?" Steve asked Kat as she returned from the dining table from her room. She'd been talking on the phone.

"That was Carlie." Kat smiled widely as she took her seat again beside her dad. Since elementary school, Kat Sloan and Carlie Wilson had been good friends. They'd seen each other at their best and their worst, resolved disagreements, and always looked out for each other. Carlie was almost like a second sister to Kat, except closer to her age. And even though they were both adults now, their friendship was stronger than ever and the two girls still kept in touch. Right now Carlie was studying for her degree at beauty school.

"Oh! How is she?" Mark asked.

"Good. She's doing good." Kat replied. "Summer break starts for her next week too. She's coming to LA for part of the summer to be with her parents. _And_ we're planning to spend lots of time together too."

"Uh-huh. And talk about the cutest, brightest boy in her class, huh?" Steve muttered sarcastically.

" _No."_ Kat smirked. "Just stuff."

"Oh."

"Thanks for the spaghetti, Grandpa." Stacy said. "It was good."

"Oh, thank _you."_ Mark smiled. "I'm glad everyone liked it."

"How did you find the time?' Steve asked. They'd all been pretty busy the passed couple days.

"Well, if the truth be known, I made it this morning before leaving to go to the hospital." Mark explained. "Then I just tossed it in the pot and heated it up before anyone knew the difference."

"That's good strategy." Stacy nodded. "Save a few steps."

"Yeah, it was good." Steve stated.

"There's coconut cream pie for dessert!" Mark announced.

"Awww." Steve groaned, patting his stomach. "Thanks, Dad, but I can't eat anymore."

"Why not? You only ate...how many servings of spaghetti?"

"Mmm. Two?" Kat suggested.

"More like two and a half." Steve corrected her.

"And three pieces of Texas Toast garlic bread." Stacy added. "Plus half the bowl of green beans."

"I did _not_ eat half the green beans, thank you very much." Steve glared.

"Not to mention the salad." Kat chuckled.

"Say, what is this anyway? The gathering of Dad's Dietary Diagram?" Steve retorted, making everyone else giggle.

"That pie sounds wonderful, Grandpa. But I've had enough for tonight too." Stacy shook her head. "Sorry."

"Awww. Well, that's okay. I'll just save it for tomorrow night." Mark shrugged.

"What's tomorrow night?" Steve asked.

"Jessie and Amanda are coming over, and we're all going to eat together." Kat answered.

"Oh, I forgot." Steve nodded. "That'll be fun."

"Yeah. It's been a long time since we've done that." Stacy added. "What are we gonna eat, Grandpa?"

"Eat? Oh, ho, ho." Steve moaned. "Must we talk about food?"

"Any votes for my meatloaf? With all the trimmings?" Mark asked eagerly.

"Oh, yes!" Stacy and Kat shouted gleefully. Steve just grunted with a sad grin. "Oh, boy. This is gonna be good! No one makes meatloaf like Grandpa. Even if they follow the recipe, I can always tell that it wasn't him who made it."

"Steve?" Mark tilted his head.

"I'd be lying if I said right now it sounds good to me." Steve stated. "But, sure. Go for it."

"Wait 'til Jesse hears what we're having," Stacy joked. "He'll be over here before you even get the meat in the mixing bowl." Kat laughed and Steve snickered.

"Yep. Probably." Mark agreed. "So, what shall we do tonight? You wanna watch anything special?"

"Such as?" Steve asked.

"Give me some choices." Kat said.

"I'm sorry. I'd like to, guys. I really would!" Stacy shook her head. "But I have a report that I really, really, _really_ need to work on. It's due tomorrow."

"Too bad." Mark muttered. "Can't you spare a few minutes?"

"No, I can't! Actually, I really should be working on it right now. Mr. Loomis will have my skin if I'm not punctual. He's very strict about that."

"Sounds like a warm kind of guy." Steve muttered.

"Mph. I've seen him around at social functions." Mark said. "He is not the kind of person you want in your corner if you're in tough spot."

" _Noo."_ Stacy agreed. "Becky got in trouble with him today. I don't know why. She's a really good reporter, and she doesn't abuse her job like some people I've seen. But Mr. Loomis always seems to find trouble for _someone,_ whether it's valid or not. I hope he's in a better mood tomorrow, or we're toast. When he's angry and barges into our work area, it's like time automatically stops. My brain freezes! Just like when I was in algebra class."

"Then why do you work for him?" Steve asked.

"It's her job." Kat piped in. "You know how it is, Dad. We can't pick our bosses."

"Exactly." Stacy said. "Besides, the work itself makes up for any bad days on the job."

"Just keep thinking that way, hon." Mark said.

"Ya know, it's scary enough when Mr. Loomis the shark gets on us, but it's always worse when Henry Stilton rubs it in. One or the other would be enough!"

"What's wrong with Henry Stilton?" Mark asked curiously.

"I'm not kidding, He acts and sounds _exactly_ like Carter in Made for Each Other! Literally! He does that a lot. It's annoying." Stacy remarked.

"Is he the only one?" Katherine asked.

"He's the only one who's not subtle about it." Stacy replied. "Mavis Anders? She doesn't really flatter Mr. Loomis. But hey, she was able to calmly pacify him today when he was in a state! I don't know how she did it, but I'm telling you, it sure helped us."

"What did this Henry Stilton do to get on your bad side?" Steve asked very eagerly.

"I said he's like Carter in Made For Each Other." Stacy said. _"That_ alone should answer your question." She stood up to take her plate and glass of water to the sink.

"Well, shall we adjourn to the living room and see what's on?" Mark suggested. Kat began to stand but Steve stayed in his seat.

"You know what I think?" He remarked with a sneaky grin.

"About what?" Katherine asked. Steve wore a smug look.

"I think the reason Stacy's being so hard on this poor Henry Stilton is because she's trying to hide how much she's _actually_ attracted to him." Steve cocked his head triumphantly. Katherine rolled her eyes and Mark smiled. Stacy gaped wide-eyed at her dad.

"You're kidding, right?!" She gasped. "Well, you're _wrong,_ Dad. I _don't_ like him!"

"Uh-huh. I've heard that before." Steve snickered skeptically.

"It's true!" Stacy declared defensively.

"You really think so, son?" Mark asked playfully.

"I'm positive." Steve declared confidently. "When women like someone and don't want anyone else to catch onto their feelings about him, she always harbors on his faults and all the little things that tick her off." He smirked at Stacy who was flabbergasted.

"There's plenty about him that ticks me off. He acts like he thinks he has no faults." Stacy said. "and I'm _not_ the only one who gets aggravated by him." Her eyes narrowed at Steve who returned with a cold cop stare, only he was smiling.

"Sure. Sure you are." He smirked. Katherine just sat back in her chair and laughed.

" _Dad,"_ Stacy sighed in exasperation, her shoulders sagging.

"You know, you may be onto something, son." Mark remarked, wide-eyed. "I mean, she's at the age now where those things happen. Do you think she really has feelings for this guy?"

"Oh, not you too, Grandpa!" Stacy exclaimed. She was amused at their teasing, which she hadn't gotten for a while. What didn't set well with her was _what_ they were jesting about.

"When did it start, honey?" Mark asked, pretending to be curious, then he looked up at the ceiling, trying to act like he was concentrating hard. "Was it when you first saw that full, well-combed rabbit ridge in his sleek red hair?" Stacy pursed her lips, and placed her hands on her hips.

"Curly brown hair." She corrected him in an annoyed tone.

"Or those dazzling blue eyes?" Steve added. Stacy huffed, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

"He has green eyes, Dad."

"Or his spot in the middle of the other desks where his gorgeous silhouette stands out?" Katherine joined in.

"He has a corner desk near the window."

"I bet he has the most captivating, musical sounding voice." Steve said theatrically, miserably mimicking a love-struck stage woman.

"Ohhh!" Stacy cringed. "Tell me he didn't just say that." She groaned to her sister and grandpa from whom she got no sympathy.

"Did you guys enjoy your first date?" Mark teased. "Where did you guys go? To Dairy Queen?"

"We have NOT and ARE NOT going out together!" Stacy blurted out. "I wouldn't take him to one of Dad's stakeouts."

"Oh, come now." Katherine giggled. Stacy gritted her teeth.

"So, tell us, what is it you like most about him?" Steve asked eagerly, with his chin propped up on his fist. He was having fun pushing his daughter's buttons because he knew he could get away with it. The worst thing that could happen would be her giving him the cold shoulder or...or burst out crying. Stacy glared and looked to Mark for help who wore that curious, cheerful smile. No help there. Katherine was chuckling.

"Oh, _please!"_ Stacy slightly grinned but threw her head back and rolled her eyes. "Stop it, guys. I can tell you what I _don't_ like about him."

"Oh, we've gotta hear this." Steve said.

"He's so pompous. He acts like he's the only one who can do the job right, and has no problem letting us know of any and all praise he gets from Mr. Loomis, plus he loves to point out our faults. He's so conceited! He reminds me of Eddie Haskell, only much worse! And he's not just saying it to say it either. He actually believes it."

"And what are his other outstanding virtues?" Mark asked. Stacy shook her head.

"I could give you a list. Does that answer your question?"

"Oh, yeah. She _doesn't_ like him." Steve smirked.

"Noo." Mark agreed playfully.

"Oh, no. She doesn't." Katherine shook her head.

"Okay, okay. That's enough. He is _not_ my type." Stacy said emphatically.

"Ho, ho, ho." Steve snickered mercilessly.

"Dad, it's true!" Stacy declared earnestly. "Okay, he's too self-important. _That's_ what really gets me."

"Uh-huh. Well, I've lived longer than you have, so, uh...I know better." Steve said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms with satisfaction

"Oh, I see," Stacy teased back. "I get it now. You're all going Clarence Day on me."

"Huh?"

" _'I'll tell you what you like and what you don't like. You're not old enough to know about such things.' "_ Stacy said, trying to mimic a man's voice as she quoted from the movie "Life with Father". "Is that it?"

"Well, I can tell you guys one thing, I know women." Steve said. "And she's got all the symptoms. She's just head over heels for...oh, what's that guy's name?"

"I am not! And I'm not gonna tell you his name." Stacy crossed her arms.

"Oh, yeah. Henry Stilton. He must be quite a catch."

"Ugh. _Not_ for me!"

"Ha, ha. You're not fooling me, girl." Steve shook his head.

"Oh, brother." Stacy smacked her forehead. "If you think I'd be interested in someone like him, you're dead wrong. You wouldn't like him, Dad. He's a pill."

"Oh?" Steve raised his eyebrows. "He might be a really nice guy." The majority of the time, through the years that his daughters had displayed even a hint of having a crush on a boy, Steve had always instantly switched to suspicious mode. He was a faithful member of the Father's Bureau of Investigation, and was thankful for his cold cop interrogation training, which he was more than ready to use if any boy stepped out of line with Steve's little girls!

But his teasing tonight, with _him_ being the one interested and even sounding like he was trying to pair off his daughter with someone, had been very unexpected. Stacy pffted at his last statement and raised her glass of water to her mouth.

"He might be a selfless hero." Mark added, earning him an amused but annoyed glare from his eldest granddaughter, who nearly gagged with the water in her mouth.

"Henry Stilton? A _selfless hero?!_ Seriously?" Stacy gaped, wide-eyed. "Ha, ha. You don't know him!"

"I'd like to meet this Henry Stilton." Mark said. "He might make good grandson-in-law material."

" _NO WAY_!" Stacy declared adamantly. "You wanna meet him? Fine. Then you can judge for yourselves." Steve pulled out his cell phone and started to dial, then held it to his ear. "What are you doing?" Stacy asked suspiciously. Steve chuckled an evil giggle.

"Hey, Jess? It's me." Steve grinned widely. "Guess who's getting married!"

" _DAD!"_ Stacy screeched, her face filled with panic, and sprinted forward towards the mischievous detective. "DON'T you dare! He'll believe you!" Stacy pleaded.

"Yeah. It all happened this evening." Steve stated. "What's that? Oh. He wants to know who the lucky guy is. Amanda? Sure, go ahead and tell her. She'll be thrilled."

"Grandpa, make him stop!" Stacy begged. Mark's shoulders shook as he couldn't contain his laughter. Katherine was also laughing.

"Jess? Jess? You still there?" Steve pulled the phone away from his ear. "I think he just fainted." He said casually.

"Here. Give that to me!" Stacy growled. She snatched the phone from Steve's hand and pulled it to her ear. Her words ran together frantically. "Hello? Hello! Jessie! Jessie, it's Stacy. Listen: Dad was just pulling your leg. Honest! He's wrong! Don't listen to him! There's no...hello? Hello?" Stacy pulled the phone away and stared at it. "Wait a minute...this thing isn't even on!" Steve busted out laughing so hard that he shed tears. "DAD!"

Stacy was incredibly embarrassed, though she couldn't help laughing. Yet she tried to keep up a provoked attitude. She grabbed a wet rag from the sink and swatted Steve's arm. This didn't deter him, but he only laughed harder, earning him a few painful moans at the protests of his full stomach from the sudden movement. "That was...so...mean!" Stacy laughed, trying to sound angry. She was still very, very embarrassed, but she had to admit, Steve had just pulled off a good one. She was just glad that Jessie really _hadn't_ been on the other end of the phone! "Ooohh, you're _good."_ She said in an ominous tone, pointing at him. "Ha, ha, ha. Very funny. You knew it wasn't on, didn't you, Grandpa?"

"Of course." Mark chuckled.

"You did not." Steve corrected him.

"Yes, I did. You touched the phone but I didn't hear any buttons beeping."

"Oh, come on." Steve groaned. _That's what I get for acting so smart._

* * *

 **Okay, so maybe the humor went on a bit long, and maybe a little too much dialogue in here, but I was trying to keep this story on the light side before all the drama comes. The next chapter is when the action is supposed to start! Anyway, hope you enjoyed this one. Reviews are good feedback.**


	4. Chapter 4 The Charge of the Bull

**So, the last chapter may not have been my best. But I wrote it because I wanted my readers to feel the innocence of the characters just enjoying life, blissfully unaware of what trouble is about to hit them. Thanks for the reviews though, and following. I'm glad someone's reading this story.**

 **Believe me, after the chapter following this one, the next chapters are going to show much more of the familiar characters like Amanda, Jessie, and Steve's partners.**

* * *

It was 11:35, and Mark was turning out the lights, getting ready to head to bed. He heard clicking around the corner and peeked. Stacy was still sitting comfortably on the couch in the living room with her laptop set on her crossed legs, typing away, and flipping through her pages of paper. There were scattered sheets and photographs laying around on the coffee table. Mark grinned and shook his head, then stepped in. "Stacy, aren't you ever gonna go to bed someday?" He asked. Stacy shook her head.

"Not 'til this is finished. Or at least almost." She answered, rubbing her forehead and clearing her throat.

"Honey, you really should get some rest." Mark said. "If you work too late, you're gonna be too exhausted to get ready for work in the morning."

"Grandpa, I've _got_ to get this done!" Stacy sighed in exasperation, looking up at him. "I'm really going to be in hot water at noon sharp tomorrow if it's not ready!"

"Honey, I know you have a job to do, but you can't do it properly if you don't get your sleep."

"Hey, you know me. I'm a night owl." Stacy chuckled. Starting in her early teenage years, Stacy had formed a habit of staying up late either reading books or writing stories. Steve and Mark had lost track of how many times they'd caught her awake at 1 in the morning, working on her hobbies. They'd had to break her of it. But, Mark had to admit, it had somewhat prepared her for the career path she'd chosen.

"I know." Mark grinned. "Just don't push yourself too hard."

"Hmm." Stacy smiled then turned her eyes back on her work. She couldn't fail in front of Mr. Loomis tomorrow! She just couldn't. He was a walking volcano, just waiting and hoping for someone to tick him off, and she certainly didn't want to do that. Mark returned a few minutes later.

"This reminds me of when you used to do your homework for school." He said.

"Yeah, it does. Except this time I get paid for it and severely reprimanded if I don't complete the work." Stacy answered, keeping her eyes on her work. Mark patted her shoulder.

"Well, don't work too late, honey." He stated. "I thought a little pick-me-up might help." Stacy glanced over at the plate he'd set on the coffee table next to her. She smiled: apple slices with a slab of peanut butter for dip. Mmm, a healthy, filling snack.

"Thank you!" She exclaimed. "I could definitely use this." Mark leaned over from behind and wrapped his arms around her in a tight bear hug. She grinned and patted his hand. He kissed her cheek.

"Good-night, sweetie."

"Good-night." She smiled again and kissed him back on the cheek. "And thanks." She added as he stood up straight.

"If you're not off that computer and in bed by 12:15, I'm going to take your dad's handcuffs to you and lead you to bed myself!" Mark said sternly. Stacy just giggled nervously as she raised her eyebrows.

"Would you really?" She jested.

"Aw, get back to work." He muttered in mock frustration, walking away.

"Hee, hee, hee. Good-night!" Stacy laughed after him.

"But, hey. I'm serious about you being off of there by quarter after!" Mark reminded her.

"Okay." Stacy chuckled.

Mark headed up the stairs and peeked inside Kat's bedroom. She was sound asleep. Mark giggled shaking his head. That was the way it had always been: Stacy was the night owl, and Kat was the sleeper. He still couldn't get over how opposite his granddaughters were. But it definitely kept his family life interesting. Then he looked inside Steve's room the way he always did. The big, zonked cop lay in bed flat on his back, snoring loudly with his mouth open. "Good-night, son." Mark shrugged. He was very surprised to find a companion in his bed!

"Annie, w...what are you doing in _my_ bed?" Mark sputtered. The dog was contentedly laying on his pillows. "All right, off the bed." He said sternly, trying to master an authoritative voice like Steve. No go: Annie didn't budge. Mark sighed and came to the bed. "Okay, scoot over. Come on." He chuckled, shoving her to the side. Annie groaned and crawled to the foot of the bed. Mark shuffled comfortably under the covers and the dog came close and lay next to him. She licked his face. He laughed and rubbed behind her ears. "Okay, okay." He wrapped his other arm under her neck and she lay her head down over it. "Yeah, I know. It's not easy trying to sleep with a noisy bear, is it?" He chuckled (Annie usually liked to sleep in Steve's room).

* * *

Steve had been up and out the door before the others woke up. He wanted to get started early this morning so he could take off early and get home before Amanda and Jessie arrived for dinner. He was looking forward to their evening together. The girls had both risen from bed at the same time. And they met in the kitchen for breakfast with Mark. They didn't have time for an elaborate morning meal, so everyone just grabbed what they felt was sufficient to their personal needs. "Only 5 more days, and then I can sleep in as long as I want!" Katherine announced as she ate her toast. "I _cannot_ wait."

"I'm looking forward to that as well." Mark said. "Stace, did you finish your report?"

"No." Stacy mumbled, as she wolfed down her apple slices and peanut butter dip. "I'm just gonna have to jump on it as soon as I get there and not stop at all!"

"I understand." Kat remarked. "That's how I feel about my class tomorrow."

"Except you're not getting paid for it." Mark interjected.

"Imagine if they _did_ pay students to earn their degree for their careers," Kat chuckled.

"Now that _would_ be something!" Mark smiled.

"Well, I've got to go, guys." Stacy moaned. "I can't wait 'til this afternoon's over! I wish I could sleep for twelve hours and it'd be dinner time tonight."

"I hear ya." Kat agreed.

"Good luck, honey." Mark smiled at Stacy as she headed for the door. "I'll be praying for you to have a good day."

"Thanks!" Stacy raised her eyebrows. "Well, bye. Tell Amanda and Jessie I can't wait to see them tonight. See ya then."

"Will do." Mark answered, and cocked his head toward Kat. "Well, Miss Sloan, would you like a lift to class?"

"Yes, I _would."_ Kat nodded, wide-eyed. "It's not fair."

"What's not fair?" Mark inquired, confused.

"When you have a job, if you come in early, you can leave early." Kat explained. "Boy, do I wish that applied at college too!" Mark chuckled.

"That is most unfortunate." He nodded. "You about ready to go?"

"Yeah. In a few minutes. Let me get my stuff." Kat responded as she walked away, along with her last bite of toast. Mark began to stack the dishes neatly beside the sink. He glanced down at Annie.

"Sorry, Annie." He shook his head. "No scraps this morning. Maybe tonight though when we have company. I guarantee that you'll find Jessie very generous. Okay?" Annie just panted.

Inside her car, Stacy was listening to a softly playing music tape to calm her nerves. She'd already heard the traffic report and anxiously just wanted to reach her workplace and jump into work. If she could be consistent with no interruptions, and if Mr. Loomis the paper shark didn't lurk around making the efforts difficult, maybe she could finish her report this morning with time to spare. It was almost 7 o'clock A.M., that gave her a little over 5 hours to complete the project neatly. Still, it wouldn't be easy though to rapidly throw together details that had taken weeks to gather then categorize and analyze in a very short the situation she'd been investigating. But she didn't have much choice: she'd have to try. "Lord, help me." She prayed, shaking her head as she kept her eyes on the road. "I can't do this by myself, and You know I'm short on time today. But, ' _I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me'._ Please, just help me." She exhaled heavily. "Oh, I can't wait for this day to be over! I can't wait, I can't wait, I can't _wait!"_

* * *

"Hey, Bob!" Stacy greeted as she rushed to her desk. Bob turned his head and nodded. "Sorry, I don't have much time to talk. I've really got to get this done, but I was just wondering: did you find out what happened with Becky yesterday? She's...she's not fired, is she?"

"No. She's not fired...yet." Bob muttered. "She's being sued. Your remember the two guys who were here yesterday, with Loomis when he came in here?"

"Yes." Stacy nodded.

"Well, when I took her to _The Red Gardenia_ last night, she explained everything. You saw the article she did on that hit and run incident last week, right?" Stacy nodded again and Bob continued. "Well, apparently, Mr. Benny Bryant didn't appreciate the attention he received when she exposed him as an accomplice to the hit and run driver. But she'd been at the scene herself and saw everything. Bryant is the one who told his partner to flee the scene. And she had pictures to prove it. Now, he's suing her for it. And that hard-nosed jerk Loomis fell for the rat's sob story, obviously Bryant 'being a victim of circumstances'. And blabbermouth over there (Henry Stilton) didn't help much. He had just happened to be sitting around in his car, eating his lunch but not watching the scenario when it happened. He didn't see anything 'til Bryant and his partner tried to flee. He was at the same place Becky was, only she didn't know. Loomis is taking Bryant's side and so is blabbermouth."

"Man, what a mess." Stacy shook her head. "But what about other witnesses? And if she had photos..."

"There were no other witnesses." Bob growled. "It was in the parking lot at _Sammy's Super Soap._ The only other possible witness is Stilton, who didn't even see everything!"

"Then he can't be called a witness at all!" Stacy huffed, appalled. "Well...a false witness, that is. Well, I'm sorry for her, but I've got to get to my own press work, or I'm gonna be in big trouble next!"

"Then get going!" Bob warned her. "I could strangle that Loomis. And Stilton. How I'd like to get my hands on both their throats!"

"You're not the only one." Stacy said quietly and finally reached her desk. She slapped the folder of papers down, set her purse on the floor, and immediately started up her computer. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, multiple times. She was incredibly nervous. "Okay, okay." She said to herself. "Here we go!"

* * *

"Hey, Mark." Amanda smiled as she walked up to the nurses' station. Mark was gazing down at some patients' charts on the counter. He smiled when he saw her.

"Hi, Amanda." He greeted warmly, giving her a fond hug. "How's it going so far this morning?"

"Quiet." Amanda grinned. She'd just come from her pathology lab, examining a corpse.

"I'm sure it was." Mark teased, removing his glasses. Amanda laughed.

"I wanted to know if there's anything you need me to bring tonight, to go with dinner?"

"Oh. Well, maybe you could buy some dinner rolls?" Mark suggested. "If you like, you can help me make the mashed potatoes."

"Sure! I can do that. Well, I'll see you later. I've got work to do." Amanda said.

"Okay, honey." Mark smiled as she walked away. He put his glasses back on. "Judy, page Dr. Barnes for me," he addressed the secretary, "We need to up Mrs. Jansen's IV, and Dr. Barnes is supposed to check little Jaden's head stitches."

"Sure, Doc." Judy nodded, taking the charts from his hand.

"Hey, Dr. S.!" An enthusiastic voice spoke behind him. Mark smiled. That could only be one person, and he turned to face his favorite ER doctor.

"Hi, Jess." Mark said. Jessie walked right up to him.

"Hey, are we still on for tonight?" He asked anxiously.

"You bet!" Mark answered.

"What are we having?" Jessie asked curiously.

"Mmm, think you can keep down a taste of my meatloaf? With _all_ the trimmings?" Mark inquired. Jessie's eyes lit up widely, like a little boy in a candy store.

" _Will_ I?" He gasped. "Try and stop me! I will definitely be there tonight. Hey, you need me to bring anything?"

"Just you." Mark replied.

"Sounds great. It'll be nice not to have to do the cooking for a change." He sighed, referring to his job at BBQ Bob's with Steve.

"That's part of the reason I invited you over." Mark said.

"Well, I'll be counting the hours...no, minutes 'til I can get out of this place today." Jessie then glanced down at his watch. "Whoa. Look at the time. I've got to beat it. But, hey, 6 P.M. sharp!" He playfully slapped Mark's arm with the clipboard he was holding and then skedaddled. Mark never ceased to be amazed and refreshed at his younger friend's energetic spirit.

* * *

 **10:18 A.M.**

Stacy purposely kept herself engrossed in her assignment. She wanted to do a very good job today. She hoped for once to more than please her boss. She wanted to him to be more than satisfied when she lay this report on his desk; however, that was one long shot. She tried to avoid any unnecessary chatter with any coworkers. _And,_ she made definite efforts to only periodically glance at the time 'til after she'd filled out several paragraphs on her computer. Everyone else kept busy too.

Suddenly they heard an all too familiar, hostile voice make its very unwelcome way through the door into the work area. Everyone tried their best to ignore Horace Loomis, but a thick, heavy tension seemed to be hovering over them. Even cocky Henry Stilton appeared a bit timid. Becky slinked down very low into her chair. Stacy didn't dare look behind her. She did, however, absent-mindedly glance at her computer clock. The time said 10:18. "Yikes!" Stacy clenched her teeth. Time was running short!

"Sit up, Johnson!" Loomis hollered at Becky who fearfully obeyed. "Get back to work, you lazy cows! I know of old ladies who could do this job faster than you are right now!" Everybody nearly froze in their stance. Their naturally easily provoked boss had brought out his ax today! _Someone or something_ had obviously said or done the wrong thing in his eyes this morning, and he was taking it out on anyone and everyone who was unlucky enough to fall under his highly irritable eyes.

Stacy tried to block out his voice and concentrate, which was absolutely impossible as Loomis barked orders or reprimands to whomever he chose. "Hey, what is going on?" Mavis Anders asked as she appeared. Stacy gritted her teeth.

"Don't ask!" She replied anxiously.

"Look who's coming." Henry, sitting across from her, announced. Stacy panicked as she saw out of her peripheral vision the ominous figure approaching...her! And he hadn't cooled off in the least.

 _No, please. No!_ She gulped and her heart started racing. She was dead meat. His footsteps were coming closer and closer. _Go away! Just go away! No, no, no, no, no..._ her thoughts wildly begged. _Oh, NOT good timing!_ She squeezed her eyes shut and jumped as Loomis tightly clenched the back of her chair and leaned down.

"What do you think you're doing, Sloan?" He growled to her ear.

"I...I'm just..." Stacy stammered.

"Look at me!" Loomis shouted and brusquely turned her swivel chair so that she faced him. She gulped as she made contact with that defiant glare of his.

"Hey, take it easy there, Horace." Mavis stated with indignation.

"You stay out of this!" Loomis snarled at her, then looked back at Stacy. "What are you laying around for, not doing the job that _I_ pay you for?"

"W-what? _Sir,_ I'm trying to finish up the Hawkins' case report, like _you_ told me to yesterday." Stacy answered as confidently as she could.

"Give me your stinking report on the construction accident! NOW!" Loomis bellowed. Stacy gaped, partly from the ringing in her ears plus this crazy request. The construction accident? Why would he want that? And right now of all times?

"The...the construction accident, sir?" She asked.

"You heard me!"

"I...I...I'm afraid I can't do that, sir. You see..."

"Why?! Why can't you? Give me one good reason!" Loomis declared madly. He was in a rage, and Stacy was actually afraid of him, especially with his hot face so close to her own right now.

"Please stop yelling at me, Mr. Loomis!" She cried. "I can't turn in that report because it isn't due yet, and it's not finished."

"I want to see it...NOW!"

"I...I can't." Stacy said in a quivering voice. Loomis stood straight up, stiffly. But he wasn't the least bit calm at all. He clenched his fists into balls.

"You no good, lazy, pea-brained little hussy." He said through seething teeth. Stacy gasped in confusion and hurt when she heard that.

"Horace!" Mavis scolded, totally appalled.

"Now you listen to me, you back-biting, insignificant blood-sucker," Loomis threatened, pointing his index finger right in Stacy's horrified face. "And you listen good! When I give you an order, I expect it to be obeyed without fail. You are an unwanted menace to this company. I'm just gonna have to sharpen that paper thin brain of yours, for all the good it'll do. I want that report in my office, in one hour! You hear me? One hour! If not, you're out of this place...today! Your sloppiness is costing me a fortune, and I'll make sure that all the other papers in this city know about it. Your credentials won't be worth the paper they were printed on anymore; plus, you'll get not an undeserved dime of compensation from my pocket! I'll spare my extended colleagues the embarrassment and humiliation of you disgracing them, so you don't have to worry about that. Now, I want that paper, complete on my desk...in one hour! Do you read me?"

Stacy was about to weep. She had no idea what this was all about, but Loomis was asking the impossible from her. She couldn't fulfill his wishes. There was no way she could do as he asked. "I heard you." She replied meekly. "But..."

"One hour, Sloan, or it's curtains for you!" Loomis threatened and finally left. Mavis walked over to Stacy.

"He's so bull-headed. It's like trying to carry on a civilized conversation with a brick." Mavis remarked.

"I wouldn't sit around there, catching my mouth's flies if I were you." Henry joked. Stacy gasped and stared hurtfully at him, then she rushed out of sight. She had to get away somewhere, where she could be alone.

"Dry up, _you."_ Mavis glared at Henry, then left. "Well, that was a fine exhibition you put on back there, you tyrant!" She bellowed at Loomis when she barged into his office.

"No one asked _you,"_ he retorted back. "I can do anything I please. I'm the head of this company, if I say you go...you go! Now get out. I'll talk to _you_ later." He growled and angrily shuffled through the papers in his drawers.

"Fine. Be that way." Mavis said through seething teeth.

* * *

Stacy had retreated to the EXIT stairway, where no one could disturb her. She was doubled over, leaning her head on and clinging to the rails with her hands. She sobbed hard. She couldn't understand why Mr. Loomis had treated her so harshly, especially when she had a deadline to meet for him. She'd been gone for a half hour. She heard footsteps and tried to compose herself. Mavis appeared. She sat down next to her and rubbed Stacy's shoulder. "I'm sorry about this, Stacy." She groaned. "He had no right to be so rough on you."

"Tell him that." Stacy answered. "He's so mean. Why did he jump on me like that? What did I do? I was only trying to do what he told me to!"

"He's two-faced, that's why." Mavis said.

"No, not really." Stacy shook her head. "He's just a volcano we have to work with. Man, did he have a blowout today!" She sniffled and tried to wipe her eyes.

"I'm sorry about that. Here, why don't you try to clean yourself up and come back? Maybe you can still finish the assignment you were working on. Maybe it'll cool him off."

"That won't make any difference." Stacy protested angrily. "You know how strict he is about punctuality. And now there's no time! I can't possibly finish it. My job's as good as out the window, Mavis! He'll never listen to reason. I'm most likely going to be sacked when I go home tonight." She hung her head.

"Just try." Mavis encouraged. "You just might be able to save your job."

"Okay," Stacy sighed. "I'll try. Just, give me a few minutes, please."

"Sure." Mavis smiled, rubbing her shoulder, then departed.

Stacy wept a for a few more minutes, 'til she felt it was finally out of her system. But she found herself still shaky even after washing her face in the restroom and blowing her nose. How long had she been crying? In all truth, she was afraid to look at the time, as she'd most likely already lost too many precious minutes to do her work. "What set him off today?" Stacy asked herself, staring in the mirror. Their were still red traces on her face. "I know it doesn't take much to blow his fuse, but _today?_ What happened this morning at his house? Well, it's really none of my business, but how could he be so unreasonable? How could he? How did he ever get to be the big man in this place? We'd all be better off with someone else...or, or at least if he'd be a little more...temperate. Only God can change people, but with people like Mr. Loomis, it's hard to believe.

'Oohh! I shouldn't be standing here like this. But it's really no use to try now. It won't do any good.' " Stacy groaned. She pursed her lips immediately quiet as another woman stepped into the room. Stacy gulped, and looking at herself in the mirror, squared her shoulders and walked out. Every step she took back to the work area, she felt with dread. What if Loomis was there waiting for her? What if she ran into him or passed him on her way back? She certainly didn't want to see him!

* * *

Mark had just finished up filing some paperwork, unbelievably relieved that it was done. He blew out a refreshing breath, removed his glasses, and leaned back comfortably in his office chair with his hands behind his head. He also perched his shiny black shoes onto his desk and crossed his ankles. "Whew! At least that's over." He smiled to himself. It had been a good day so far, and he just hoped that everything would stay that way, especially for tonight! But he'd learned a very long time ago that life had a way of foiling one's plans, especially if you were a police officer like Steve or a doctor like Mark. But Mark shoved away any dampening thoughts, taking in these moments of quiet and relaxation. He wasn't going to dwell on anything gloomy. Just then, his pager rang, startling him. "Whoa." He pulled it out and smiled when he saw the familiar number identifying the caller. He pulled it to is ear and answered cheerfully. "Hi, Steve!"

"Hey, Dad." Steve answered. "How are things going?"

"Good. Really good. Of course, that could change at any moment. You know: adrenaline rush, think fast, do what you know to do. How are things going for you?"

Steve grunted. "Okay. Okay, well...good so far. But of course, that could change at any moment. You know: adrenaline rush, think fast, do what you know to do. Yeah, ll that fun stuff."

Mark laughed on the other end. "Think you can still make it tonight?"

"I think so." Steve replied. "I just hope no bad guys are listening in on my phone conversations and making their own plans for my schedule."

Mark chuckled again. "Maybe we should invite them over to join us for dinner." He suggested. He could hear Steve pfft on the other end.

"Uh-huh. Funny, Dad. A lot of fun that would be."

"It would certainly cut down on all that foot chasing."

"Ahem. To get back in the real world, is there anything you wanted me to pick up and bring for tonight?" Steve asked.

"Not that I can think of." Mark said. "But definitely bring yourself!"

"I'll do my best. Well, gotta go. See ya later."

"Bye, son." Mark replied, ending the conversation. He rubbed his chin. "Hmm. Wonder how Stacy's coming along with her report for Loomis. Maybe I'll call her." He was about to dial when he changed his mind and set his phone down. "Nah. Better wait 'til lunch time."

* * *

As Stacy peered into the doorway where her coworkers were hard at work, she was incredibly relived not to find Mr. Loomis standing at her desk, or anywhere in sight. Yet, that didn't drive away all the fluttering flip-flops jumping around in her stomach. Several sympathetic, curious faces glanced in her direction, but she just went straight to her desk. She did see Henry Stilton sitting at his own, but he seemed more interested in whatever he was doing on his computer and telephone conversation than in taunting her. For that, she was extremely grateful. _He can just save it if he wants to poke fun right now!_ She thought gloomily and made up her mind to do her best to ignore him, no matter what insults he threw her way. She exasperatingly dropped into her chair and sighed heavily. The clock on the wall read 11:06. She winced and covered her face with her hand. "I'm not going to make it!" She cried lowly. Small tears came to her eyes again; however, she swallowed them and started to go over the Hawkins' report again.

* * *

 **11:59 A.M.**

Stacy Sloan, trembling in with dread and heart racing, holding the folder in her arm, knocked on Horace Loomis's office door. _He's gonna just have to accept it as is that this report i_ _s_ _done! By a matter of seconds!_ There was no answer, so she timidly opened it. He wasn't in there. Her mind filled with confusion, relief, but also worry. "Did he go to my desk? Is he waiting for me there?" Her thoughts swam out loud. She turned out into the hallway and saw his personal secretary, Georgina Walters heading her way, peering down at a folder she was holding in her hands. "Georgina? Georgina?!" Stacy called and rushed to her.

"Hello, Miss Sloan." Georgina said, staring at her under those black rimmed glasses.

"Where is Mr. Loomis?" Stacy asked. "He's not in his office."

"He said he was going out to lunch. He was livid, and looked ready to kill." Georgina replied dryly. Though she absolutely believed it, Stacy grimaced when she heard that description.

"Do...do you know when he'll be back?" She asked nervously.

"He said in an hour." Georgina answered, just as glumly. Apparently, she didn't enjoy working for him either.

"Well, uh, when he comes back, will you please make sure that he gets this? And tell him it was delivered at twelve sharp!" Stacy begged, handing over the folder.

"Sure." Georgina mumbled, taking it. Then she walked away.

Stacy was half-relieved and half-worried. She _had_ finished the Hawkins' report, barely...but at least it was done! But there was just no way she could produce the other requested-no, demanded-assignment, and like it or not, he was just going to have to accept it. He'd made an unreasonable request, and it was his own selfish fault if he didn't get it!

Stacy joined Bob and Becky for lunch, though she wasn't very hungry. But that was okay, because Mark's marvelous meatloaf, which was a big hit with family and good friends of the Sloans, would hit the spot tonight...if she wasn't fired, that is. Her cell phone rang and she excused herself from the table. She found a secluded hallway and answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, Stacy!" Mark's warm voice responded cheerfully. She sighed and slightly chuckled when she heard it.

"Oh, hi, Grandpa." She smiled sadly. "How are you?"

"I'm pretty good. I was calling to ask how _you_ were doing."

Stacy sighed heavily. "Perfect timing. It's not going very well, Grandpa. I'm _not_ having a very good day right now." She moaned.

"Aw. Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, honey." Mark said sympathetically. "I was hoping things would turn out more pleasant for you."

"Yeah, so did I."

"Did...did you finish your report on the Hawkins' case, or should I even ask?" Mark inquired cautiously.

"Yes, I _did."_ Stacy replied doubtfully. "But that wasn't good enough. I missed another deadline, and Mr. Loomis _isn't_ happy about it."

"Mmm. Sounds rough." Mark agreed. "Well, I'll still be praying for you."

"Thanks. I need it!"

"Sure. Hey, try not to let it bother you. Remember, we're having company tonight."

"Yes. I can't wait! It'll be so nice to see Amanda and Jess. I hope we all have a good time."

"Oh, I guarantee we will," Mark said encouragingly. "The big question is, will your father be able to stick with the plan?"

"We all know he'll try." Stacy said. "If he doesn't make it, it won't be his fault."

"Yeah. Well, I guess I'd better let you go. Cheer up, honey, and keep thinking about our dinner instead of your problems. Okay?"

"I'm really trying to." Stacy stated. "I'll talk to you later. Can't wait!"

"Bye, Stace." Mark said.

"Bye, Grandpa. And thanks a lot for calling and talking to me. You've been a big help."

"Any time, sugar." Mark smiled and hung up.

"Why don't you take the rest of the day off?" Bob suggested when Stacy returned.

"I'd really like to, Bob. But if I do that, I might not be back here tomorrow!" Stacy replied.

"I agree with Stacy." Becky spoke up. "It would give that monster the satisfaction that he drove you away, and then he'd be able to say that you can't handle the job. You don't wanna do that!"

No! No, I _don't!"_ Stacy shook her head emphatically.

"I can't believe _you_ of all people said that, Becky." Bob remarked in surprise.

Becky glared. "Hey, I've worked hard to keep this job, and I'm not about to let that lurk-some predator take it from me just so he can have a little afternoon pick-me-up! I'm not quitting just because some hot air balloon overseer had his ego deflated!" Stacy chuckled at her friend's determination. It was starting to boost her own a little bit.

"Well, if _you_ can be shot down and still standing, I guess the rest of us can too." Bob remarked.

"Let's hope so." Stacy gulped.

Around 2:30, Horace Loomis had not returned to the building. Stacy inquired from Mavis or whoever she could, save Henry, for his whereabouts. It wasn't that she was anxious to see him: on the contrary! But she _did_ just want to get the confrontation over with. She asked Georgina again who said that Loomis had called and said he wouldn't be back until morning. He'd also left a specific message for Stacy: he'd said that he was going to have a definite conference with her in his office tomorrow morning, 8:30 A.M. sharp! Stacy was so worried...again. At least she wouldn't be seeing the likes of him again today, but what about tomorrow? He was going to sack her, no doubts about it. What could she do now?

* * *

 **4:35 P.M.**

"I already straightened up the kitchen, Grandpa." Kat said on the phone. Her day at class had ended and she'd gone straight home to the beach house. Presently, she was preparing for their guests. "The rest of the house looks presentable too."

"Thanks, Kat dear." Mark smiled as he removed his white lab coat. "I really appreciate it, honey. You're a good helper." He heard Kat chuckle. "Well, I should be home in twenty minutes, so you can go do whatever."

"Okay. I think I will." Kat answered. "See you when you get here. Bye."

"Bye."

"Oh! Wait a minute!" Kat exclaimed.

"What is it?" Mark asked.

"Could you or Dad get some canned soda? And an extra bag of ice?"

"I'll do that on my way home." Mark said. "What flavors do you want?"

"Grandpa, we're all your family, and you don't know by now who likes what?" Kat teased.

"Of course I do." Mark laughed. "Well, I've got to go. See you soon."

"Okay." Kat said, and hung up.

"Where are you off to, master chef?" Jessie asked, meeting his mentor outside the door of the doctor's lounge.

"Off to create a masterpiece." Mark replied.

"Yeah. I'll be off in a little less than an hour. Then I'll be there. Really looking forward to it."

"Me too. I've got to scoot. Bye, Jessie."

"Bye."

"Mark, what are your plans for dessert?" Amanda asked as she hurriedly caught him before he reached the elevator.

"Don't worry, hon. I've got it covered." Mark shook his head.

"Well, I'm off for the evening."

"You wanna ride home with me?" Mark offered.

"Thanks, Mark. But I was going to see the boys before they left to go to their sleepovers."

"Ah." Mark nodded. "Well, I'd better go."

"Okay!" Amanda smiled widely as she walked away. "And tell Steve he'd better not cover for anyone else tonight, or he'll have to answer to us the next time he comes in with an ailment!" Mark laughed and entered the elevator. Steve had called and said that he should be home at 6, on the dot.

* * *

 **5:35 P.M.**

Stacy couldn't believe it was finally evening. She was really looking forward to what she hoped would be a fun-filled, refreshing night with her family and best friends. The day had felt like it just dragged out. She was gathering her purse and other essential papers when Mavis, Bob, and Becky appeared. "Hey, Beck and I are going to _Sami's."_ Bob said. "Would you like to come with us, Stacy?"

"No thanks, guys." Stacy smiled, shaking her head. "You go ahead. I've already got very special dinner plans for tonight, and I'm not breaking them."

"Okay," Becky shrugged. "But you're missing out." Then the couple walked away, leaving Stacy alone with Mavis.

"One heck of a day, huh?" Mavis chuckled.

"Boy! Yeah!" Stacy agreed, wide-eyed.

"I'm sorry for what happened. That was so uncalled for."

"Thanks." Stacy sighed. "Mavis, I don't even know if I'll still be a writer for this paper by tomorrow morning! He wants to see me, at 8:30, sharp!"

"Maybe he wants to privately apologize."

"Yeah right!" Stacy rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I don't want to think about it. I don't want to think about anything tonight except fun and relaxation."

"Well, you go home and do just that." Mavis smiled. "Good-night, Stacy."

"'Night." Stacy sighed and finally walked down to her car in the parking lot. After buckling herself in, she just sat there, contemplating in her mind what to do. She had a strong, uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach that tomorrow Mr. Loomis was undoubtedly going to place her on the paper's chopping block. And even being among family and friends tonight wouldn't wash away her indisposable sense of dread. In fact, she wouldn't truly be able to enjoy herself tonight until she'd had the matter settled. Oh, she really wanted to just get home, but she couldn't rest easy until she resolved things with her cruel taskmaster. She trembled with the thought of what she was about to do-knowing it was crazy. That's why she didn't tell Mavis or the others.- but she wouldn't be able to sleep tonight unless she was satisfied that she'd made the effort.

Her cell phone rang. "Hello?" She answered.

"Hey, it's me." Kat said.

"Hi."

"You gonna be home soon? Amanda's already here."

"I should hopefully be." Stacy remarked. "If the traffic isn't bad. Hey, can I talk to Grandpa for a second?"

"Yeah. Hey, Grandpa? She wants to talk to you for a minute."

"Okay." Mark responded, drying his hands on a dish towel, then took the phone. "Hello, Stace?"

"Yeah, it's me, Grandpa."

"You off yet?"

"Yeah. It was a long day. But I should finally be on my way home."

"Well, good. Just try to let your mind rest tonight and enjoy yourself. Jessie should be here really soon. Try to hurry up, Stace. I don't think some certain people can afford any delays of this meal tonight!"

"Sure. But I might be a few minutes late though. I have a business stop to make first."

* * *

 **If you want me to post the next chapter soon, please leave a review. The next one is the main point to the story!**


	5. Chapter 5 Circumstantial Evidence

Stacy nervously pulled up in the Loomis driveway. She was petrified, wondering if she should go through with it or not. Mr. Loomis would surely bite her head off. "No, I...I can't." She shook her head, speaking to herself in the car. "I don't think I can do this." She gulped and took a very deep breath. "Okay, let's go." She gulped again and stepped out. Her stomach was doing crazy flip-flops as she approached the front door of the fancy house. "Come on, come on," She kept telling herself, "it won't do any good, but you have to do it." She reached the door and frightfully rang the doorbell. No one came to answer the door. She tried again about 6 times, but still no answer. "Maybe it's not working." She began to knock, and noticed that the frame was loose and opened after the first touch. "That's odd." She gulped.

Stacy, filled with fear at his impending rage she was sure to get, forced one foot inside the house. She entered the lobby and looked around. Most of the lights were out. "H-hello?! Hello?" She called in a quivering voice. "M-Mr. Loomis? Mr. L-Loomis, are you here?" She glanced around, but the dining room, sitting room, kitchen, and stairway were all dark.

"Mr. Loomis? It's Stacy Sloan. Please! I have to talk to you!" Stacy called, but got no reply. She decided to look in his study. In his fitful anger, he just might have her charged for trespassing, and though she was really scared to face his wrath, she had to try and plead with him! She really, really didn't want to lose her new job. If he wouldn't listen to reason, maybe she could talk to his wife, but she didn't seem to be anywhere around either. "Hello?" Stacy called again as she walked into the study. It was dimly lit and he wasn't there, at least not sitting at his desk in his office chair. Stacy sighed heavily, then was about to leave when something caught the attention of her peripheral vision. She turned and saw a limp arm lying on the floor behind the desk. "Wha..." she gasped and her heart started racing as she approached the desk and looked. There was her unreasonable, hard boss lying on the floor on his side. She wasn't sure if he was sleeping or physically hurt.

"M...Mr. Loomis?" She asked shakily. "Mr. Loomis? Are you all right? Can you hear me?" She set her purse aside and knelt down next to him. "Mr. Loomis?!" She panted frantically when she noticed blood on the carpet. She reached over and with much groaning and grunting, managed to turn him over onto his back. Stacy screeched at the sight of him: he was bleeding, with a small steak knife sticking straight in his heart! "Oohh," Stacy shuddered and gasped in fright. She'd never, ever been _this_ close to a dead body before, and she trembled. She was so scared and raised her hands to her face in shock. Her hands felt sticky and she shrieked when she realized that there was blood on them from touching the corpse! She was so stunned she couldn't think straight. Then there were footsteps behind her, coming her way!

Stacy panicked. Someone screamed and she turned her head to find Mrs. Loomis standing there gasping and clasping her head in her hands, with a gentleman in a suit standing beside her. "What the heck?" He asked in surprise and anger. Mrs. Loomis clutched her chest and collapsed to the floor in a dead faint. "Stay right where you are, girl! Don't move!" The man ordered and reached for the phone, starting to dial 911. "I'm calling the police." Stacy just gaped at both of them, horrified.


	6. Chapter 6 A Father's Nightmare

**Hi, everyone. Yes, this is the sad chapter where the summary of the story comes to life. Reviews would be helpful. Hope I'm doing a good job.**

* * *

Steve Sloan arrived a half hour later at the Loomis estate, his coworkers already on the scene. He'd called Mark and told him he'd be late for dinner. Sgt. Barnes met him before he reached the front door. "Sgt. Barnes," Steve greeted with a sigh. "Well, what have we got here?"

"A stabbing." The sergeant replied dryly. "His wife and his attorney found him dead. But I don't think you should go in there just yet, Sloan." Steve was taken aback at this comment. It was really out of character.

"Why? What do you mean by that?" Steve asked with an edge in his voice. "Is there something in there I shouldn't see?"

" _Please_ calm down, Steve." Sgt. Barnes begged with a very dismal face. "I'm just letting you know, it's not going to be pretty for you." Steve was growing impatient. He was a seasoned homicide detective, and he'd seen _a lot_ on the job of crime-solving, and many times he'd had to solve things that he wished he'd never learned about. Plus, this sudden murder case was making him late for a very special dinner. This case must be something _really, really_ ugly for his coworker to actually try to prevent him from going in!

"It never is." He huffed. "What's with you, Drew? We've both seen worse than stabbings before. You know that. Look, I don't know what kind of mess you found in there, but I'm going in!" And Steve pushed the sergeant aside and angrily marched forward. Drew anxiously tried to stop him.

"Steve! Wait! No! Wait a minute..." Drew called after him, but Steve ignored him and stepped inside the house. He walked to the sitting room where he found a few of his other partners, who were making small talk and looked as if they were trying to _act_ interested in their work.

"All right, guys. What's this about?" Steve demanded. They all looked nervously at the detective and it appeared as if no one wanted to speak to him, not even Cheryl. In fact, she wouldn't look him in the eye. _That_ spooked Steve a little bit. Something was definitely going on that was terribly wrong, and suddenly he felt a wave of dread wallow in his stomach: a feeling that had just dropped on him. The point was, he couldn't figure out why. "What the heck is going on?!" Steve growled. "Why are you all acting so odd? What did you find that's so bad that you felt like you have to hide it from me?! Do you have a suspect or not?"

"Yes, we do, Sloan." Chief Masters finally appeared and spoke up for the unusually timid group. This whole atmosphere felt so weird. Steve gaped at seeing his highest ranking officer at this crime scene: that was very unusual! Something big must really be going on if _he_ was here. The other officers had called Captain Newman, regarding the circumstances, and he insisted that the chief be there. When they'd arrived on the scene and Mrs. Loomis and her husband's attorney had pointed out their accused, Cheryl and the rest felt it would be wisest to call Chief Masters to come. They wanted him to be on hand to keep the situation under control, in case Steve went berserk, which he was apparently on the verge of doing!

"Well?" Steve huffed. The chief turned his head. One of the officers appeared, leading a young woman with him as he held her firmly by the arm. She stared down anxiously at the floor as she was brought in. Steve Sloan's heart dropped into his stomach, and he felt as if someone had snuck up on him and stabbed a knife into his back! _"What in the world?!"_ Steve whispered to himself, his heart pounding wildly. Standing in front of him, being accused of committing murder, was...was his very own daughter, Stacy!

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant," Corporal Jeffers said. "But she was found alone, hovering over the body by the victim's wife, and there was no one else around. He threatened to sabotage her job and reputation. She had opportunity and motive. And she was found at the scene of the crime, with his blood on her hands. I'm gonna have to book her." Steve felt as if someone had sucker punched him in the guts and he could feel the color draining from his face. This couldn't be happening! This was no hardened criminal or greedy killer standing in front of him. This was his daughter, his flesh and blood, his little girl! And she was going to be arrested! The corporal spoke as if it was just routine. The look of fear and helplessness on her face pierced his heart. Oh, how he wanted to yell, he wanted to shove Jeffers away, and demand that he take his stern hands off of her, but...but he couldn't! This was his job, and she...she'd been caught at the scene of the crime, and as much as it gagged Steve to admit it, she had had a very strong motive for killing her tyrannical boss. That was the strongest point against her right now. He stared at Stacy, his face full of hurt and shock.

Stacy timidly gazed back up at her tall, usually strong, take-charge father in horrified bewilderment. If only he would say something! She couldn't bear his silence, it filled her with dread. _Oh, Dad, please don't look at me like that!_ Her thoughts screamed. _Say something, please! Just say something!_ Steve could see that she was starting to shiver, from fright and hurt feelings, but what could he do? "Dad, I..." she whimpered, unable to get any other words out as tears burst out of her eyes and she wept quietly, hanging her head.

"We'll bring her in, Sloan so you don't have to." Chief Masters spoke up. Steve was lost in a trance and didn't respond. "Sloan?" The chief said, a little louder. Steve slowly turned his head, looking confused.

"Huh? Oh, yes, sir." He mumbled. It was all he could get out.

"All right. Come on." Corporal Jeffers said stiffly to Stacy, and started to lead her away. Her voice quivered in small gasps. She couldn't help it. Steve just slowly followed from a distance and watched painfully as his daughter was placed in the back seat of a police car, just like a common crook. He leaned against the wall of the doorway for support. He was sick at heart. She looked back at him through the window hurtfully.

 _Don't you believe me?!_ Her face seemed to be pleading to him. Steve stood stock still, choking back a heavy sob in his throat. He wanted to let his emotions out, but didn't. He was a cop. He was supposed to be tough no matter what. Stacy winced and hung her head, and Steve could see that she was breaking into weeping. Then the car drove away.

Steve was so confused, hurt, and angry, very angry. He felt like someone was twisting a knife around inside his whole body. For the first time in a very long time that he could remember, he wanted to just cry like a child. He clenched his fists 'til his knuckles became white. Then he heard a voice behind him. "I'm sorry, Steve." Chief Masters said dismally. "Really sorry. But we had no choice. We'll do all we can to help you." His boss must have seen clearly how this nightmare was effecting his best detective, for only a very few times had he ever addressed him as _Steve_ instead of Sloan or Lieutenant. The chief actually reached out his hand and touched Steve's shoulder. His superior's offered attempt at easing the blow was small comfort right now. Steve couldn't even say _thank you,_ he just nodded.

* * *

"Sloan, I'd like a word with you, please." Chief Masters said glumly, pulling his best lieutenant aside. They were back at the station.

"Yes, sir." Steve said lowly. His superior led him to a quiet, unoccupied hallway.

"Now, Sloan, I know you're upset." Masters said.

"That is a masterpiece of understatement, sir." Steve muttered, staring down at the floor. He had his hands on his hips.

"Sorry. Sloan, I want you to go home. Right now." Masters declared.

Steve gaped in bewilderment. "You want me to what?"

"I want you to go on home."

"But why, sir?" Steve asked incredulously. "This _is_ a homicide investigation, and that's my line."

"Not tonight, Sloan." Masters shook his head. "With the prime suspect being your own daughter, tonight it would just hinder us from being efficiently thorough. Now, don't get me wrong, Sloan. You're a great detective, one of the best I've ever had. But I feel that this is just too close to home for you right now. You might let your personal feelings get in the way, and that wouldn't benefit any of us."

"So, you're pulling me off the case?!" Steve glowered vehemently, not hiding the anger in his voice. There was no way he was gonna let even the Chief of Police stand in his way of being involved in this case. And there was no way he was gonna leave the station either...without Stacy! No, he would stay here all night if he had to, but he wasn't about to leave her!

"Just for tonight." Masters answered calmly. "I spoke with Captain Newman, and he agrees with me. This is just too much for you to handle right now, and I want you to go home...now. That's an order, Sloan."

Steve glared at his commanding officer. How could he ask such a thing of Steve when he was needed here at the moment? Stacy needed him, and it would kill him to leave her behind tonight, alone in his workplace, knowing full well what was most likely going to happen to her."With all due respect, Charlie, but I'm afraid I can't do that." Steve shook his head, his eyes dark and piercing coldly. "That's my little girl you've got in there! I know she's under suspicion, but I'm _not_ walking away from this! I'm going to see this thing through, no matter how it comes out!"

"Discussion's over, Sloan." The inflexible, blank gaze of Chief Masters only dashed further his hopes of taking Stacy home tonight. Steve huffed.

"All right, I'll go." He growled. "I _will_ be back here tomorrow, _sir!"_

"We'll be expecting you." Masters nodded. "I'm sorry, Sloan." Steve looked up at him sadly, his face full of defeat.

"Not as sorry as I am!" He gulped and walked away. He marched forward, his eyes peering straight ahead. He didn't want to see his partners, he didn't want to run into _anybody,_ not even Cheryl! They said they were his friends, but look what they were doing to his family! That's what made Steve angry the most: he'd trusted his fellow officers once, and they'd ethically but undoubtedly betrayed him by sending his father, Mark to prison and then he'd ended up on Death Row where he _didn't_ belong! And now it felt like it was beginning to happen again, and they wouldn't let him do anything to stop it! Ignoring all the curious, timid, and sympathetic eyes staring at him, Steve Sloan stormed out of his workplace.

* * *

Back at the beach house, Katherine and Amanda were placing the drinks of Cola and ice water on the table. Mark, clad in his blue cooking apron, had all the dishes of mouth-watering, smelling food lined up on the counter. The aroma was overwhelming, and Jessie was eagerly licking his lips. Amanda was just waiting to hear his stomach growl so belligerently that the whole world could hear. The young ER doctor's enthusiasm and youthful looks reminded all of them of a little boy waiting to lick the icing out of the mixing bowl his mother used to spread on a cake. As if to bring the image to life, Jessie actually leaned forward with his arms on one of the stools at the counter and sniffed the air! Mark, Katherine, and Amanda all gave each other knowing smiles and giggled. Annie the Australian Shepherd was following his example. The whole house was filled with an air of anticipation. "Awww, man!" Jessie grinned passionately. "That food has _got_ to be sent from heaven!"

"Oh, I don't think so, Jessie." Mark chuckled. "If this came from heaven, I wouldn't have poured a little too much Vinaigrette in the salad."

"I hope Dad and Stacy get back in the next 2 minutes!" Katherine exclaimed. "I'm so hungry." This was the first time in a while that everyone was going to be able to eat together.

"Where are they anyway, Mark?" Amanda asked. "Shouldn't they be back by now?"

"Well, Stacy said that she had a stop to make first on business," Mark sighed, "and that she might be a few minutes late. She should be here in a minute. Steve? A case came up, so I'm not sure when he'll arrive."

"Losers weepers." Jessie smirked casually. "If he's gonna be so cold and heartless as to miss your marvelous meatloaf with all the trimmings, I'm gonna really give it to him next time he comes in with a medical problem! If he doesn't get here on time, I'm _not_ sparing _one_ bite of this great meal for him." Everyone laughed. Soon the happy family was sitting down at the table, ready to delve into the delicious meal. Mark shared a very heartfelt prayer of thanks that they could all be together tonight. Annie watched from her sitting spot at the end of the table on the floor, hoping someone might accidentally drop some goodies for her. "Hand me those potatoes, Mark." Jessie said as fast as he could.

" _Jessie,"_ Amanda scolded. "Mark worked extra hard on this meal. I think it's only fair and proper that he should be first!" Jessie sighed heavily.

"You're right." He said. "But hurry, Mark. _Nothing_ in the whole world is gonna kill my appetite before I eat this! Where the heck are Steve and Stacy?"

"Good point. Maybe I should call Stacy and ask her how much longer she'll be." Mark stated.

" _Wherever_ she went." Katherine said sarcastically.

"She said it was business." Mark said. Katherine heard a car pull up in the driveway.

"One of them's home." She sighed with relief. "I guess Dad won't be here for dinner."

"Good! More for me!" Jessie cheered. Amanda rolled her eyes as Mark passed the food along to Katherine who was sitting beside him.

"Yeah, well, you'll have to wait, Mr. Bottomless Pit." She smirked and started scooping the eye-catching food onto her plate. The door in the kitchen opened and in walked Steve.

"Steve! Good, we're just getting started." Mark smiled. Annie barked happily and trotted to her favorite Sloan family member. She wriggled in delight, waiting for him to pet her.

"You're home." Katherine stated. "We thought you wouldn't make it."

"Come on, sit down, Steve." Jessie smiled, pulling the chair next to him out so the detective could sit down. "Let's dig in!" Steve stared dismally down at the floor. The cheery atmosphere in his household was so innocent that he didn't have the heart to break it up right now.

"No thanks, I'm...not hungry." Steve mumbled.

"Ooo. Hard day, huh?" Amanda smiled.

"What, are you crazy?!" Jessie sputtered. "It's Mark's meatloaf, with potatoes and everything!"

"I said I'm _not_ hungry." Steve replied gruffly. "Annie, go away." Annie whimpered at Steve's sharp tone, also disappointed that he'd failed her with the usual welcoming affection and sadly walked over to Mark and sat by him for consolation. It was at that moment that Mark really observed his son. Steve would never turn down this meal for anything, except his job. Mark stared at his son with furrowed, concerned brows. He'd seen and read that body language without fail too many times before. Something was terribly wrong, and he wasn't sure exactly why, but Mark felt a sickening sense of dread crawling up his spine.

"Steve, is something wrong?" Amanda inquired softly. She'd also noticed her friend's stiff, unhappy manner.

"Dad?" Katherine asked cautiously. She knew to stay out of his way and not badger him with questions when he was in this mood.

"I'm fine." Steve said dryly, not looking any of them in the eyes. "Sorry for spoiling your dinner. You all go ahead and eat. Don't mind me."

"Steve, what's the matter?" Mark prodded directly. Steve's shoulders stiffened rigidly, his sad eyes narrowed, and he firmly gritted his teeth.

"Nothing! I said _I'm fine."_ He snapped, and stomped away into Mark's study.

"What's got him so grouchy?" Jessie spoke up.

"I don't know," Mark said in a determined voice. "But I'm going to find out. You guys go ahead and eat. I'll be back." He stood up and walked out of the kitchen. A heavy, tense silence hung all over the room.

"Well, like he said, let's eat." Jessie said nervously, trying to lighten the mood. Katherine glared at him and pushed her plate away.

"I don't want to eat now." She declared hotly. Amanda and Jessie glanced at each other, unsure of what to do. Then Amanda rose from her chair and started to walk away.

"Where ya going?" Jessie asked.

"I'm gonna find out what's going on." She stated. "Steve's been grouchy in the past, but he usually keeps these things to himself when we're having a fun gathering like this. Something must really be bothering him."

"I'm coming too." Katherine said and stood up. "We can listen, but do _not_ ask Dad a bunch of questions right now!" She warned. "He _hates_ that at a time like this." The two girls left Jessie alone at the table.

"Hey! You're just gonna leave me here with all this food?" Jessie called. Ordinarily, he'd be thrilled, but Steve's moody manner had killed off the excitement. "Wait for me!" He quickly stood up and grabbed a happy helping of meatloaf slices and stuffed them into his face. He saw how sad Annie was and felt sorry for the forlorn dog. Making sure no one was looking, he set Mark's plate on the floor. "There ya go, Annie girl. Enjoy! Don't tell anyone it was me." He whispered before following Amanda and Katherine.

Steve was standing with an arm leaning against the wall in the study and the other on his hip. He covered his face with his hand, rubbing his temples, and shaking his head. He growled to himself for having spoiled everyone's good time. He heard soft footsteps behind him and he knew his dad was about to interrogate him. "What's bothering you, Steve?" Mark asked as gently as he could. "Ya know, you were pretty snappy back there." Steve huffed heavily.

"I know it, Dad! And I'm sorry." Steve blurted angrily. "It just...leave me alone, PLEASE!"

"What's wrong, son?" Mark asked, touching Steve's shoulder. "Something bad is eating at your gut. I can always tell. Now what is it?" The only thing Mark could imagine was that one of their worst enemies had either been released or had escaped from prison and Steve didn't want to frighten his family but wanted so badly to keep them safe. But Steve wouldn't have made his displeasure about something like that so obvious under Mark's keen eye. Or maybe one of his partners got killed tonight on the job, but that couldn't be it because Steve wouldn't be home if that was the case. _Maybe he had to arrest one of his partners' kids!_ Mark thought to himself. _That has to be it. No wonder he's devastated._ Steve kicked the wall and stubbed his toe but didn't care about the pain. He hung his head and drew in a sharp breath.

"I...I'm sorry, Dad." Steve said uneasily, miserably shaking his head. "I didn't mean to yell at you."

"I know, son." Mark responded quietly. "But, whatever it is, you can talk to _me_ about it." Steve raised his head and glanced hurtfully at his father whom he deeply respected and admired. He half-wished he was a little boy again with a bee sting and could just cry as Mark tended his wound and his mom would try to soothe him. But there was no way his dad could make this pain go away right now. Steve gulped and walked toward the other wall, hands on hips, his shoulders heaving, and heavy sighs. He shook his head sadly. Mark studied him keenly and already felt awful for whatever heavy burden was plaguing his usually strong, take charge, tough son.

"Horace Loomis was murdered." Steve stated as simply as he could. He still didn't face his father.

"What?!" Mark gasped. "Stacy's boss? The director of _The Los Angeles Times?"_

"Yeah. He was found stabbed in his study."

"Oh." Mark said quietly. "Well, I don't condone murder, but from what I've heard, he wasn't a nice guy."

"That's why he was killed!" Steve blurted with a dose of bitterness. "He was one of the most hot-tempered, unreasonable people I ever heard of. But that still doesn't make..." Steve choked and tried to maintain his usually commanding voice. "How could someone do something like..." He hung his head and covered his face with his hand.

"Steve?" Mark asked with worry in his voice. It was so unlike his son to give into sad emotions like this without trying to hide it under his stern cop appearance, plus appear grief-stricken over someone he would never want to be close to, someone he loathed. Steve turned and finally faced his dad. Mark was taken aback at how distraught and lost his son's face looked. He could ever so slightly detect a mist forming in those saddened blue eyes. No one almost _ever_ saw Steve Sloan this way. It was a rarity.

Steve bit his lip hard and winced. Then raised his eyes helplessly to the ceiling, shaking his head, and panting. "They think Stacy did it!" The seasoned homicide detective wailed. "They think _Stacy_ murdered Loomis!" Mark's jaw dropped as he was unbelievably stunned. He gasped loudly and for a moment his body felt completely numb.

"WHAT?!" Mark gasped loudly. Then at the sight of his defeated looking son, he realized he needed to remain calm.

"They booked her, Dad." Steve said flatly. He didn't try to hinder the tears that were now streaming down his face. He almost never displayed these emotions in front of anyone, but this time, he didn't have the willpower to keep his eyes dry.

"Dad! What did you say?!" Katherine cried out as she, Amanda, and Jessie all appeared in the study, shock on their faces.

"That's crazy!" Amanda exclaimed. "I don't believe it!"

"She's innocent!" Jessie added. "She'd never do a thing like that!"

"Dad, are you serious?" Katherine asked in a hurt, determined voice. Steve couldn't stand the pain and shock in his younger, grown daughter's face, or the faces of his other loved ones. He'd brought pain into this house, which was the last thing he wanted to do. He felt a strong nausea in the pit of his stomach.

"But how in the world could they suspect Stacy?" Mark asked, finally taking some sort of charge over the situation. "What grounds do they have?"

"She was at the scene of the crime, Dad." Steve growled. "Chief Masters told me that Mrs. Loomis and her attorney arrived and found...and found her leaning over the body with...with fresh blood on her hands."

"Oohh, Mark..." Amanda drew in a breath, with a quivering voice.

"It's a frame up!" Jessie hollered indignantly. "It's a frame up! That doesn't prove anything. She could've just found the body when they walked in and was trying to see if he was hurt. And we're gonna find out who did it. And whoever this creep is, he'll live to regret this once Stacy exposes him in her next story!"

"She also had a fight with him today. He blew his top at her and she was pretty upset. That spells motive. There was nothing I could do." Steve moaned, finally dropping to a chair and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Mark came over and patted his back.

"I know, Steve. I know." Mark said calmly. "It wasn't your fault. But...mph! Poor thing. I hope she'll be okay tonight."

"Masters said they'd do everything they can to help." Steve said lowly.

"That's fine coming from him, after he arrested her!" Jessie snarled. Amanda touched his shoulder.

"He was doing his job. Chief Masters knows Stacy. He knows all of us. He knows she wouldn't do something like this." Amanda declared.

"That won't stop him from doing his job." Steve said dryly. "Knowing someone isn't sufficient in contradicting reasonable doubt."

"Don't worry, Steve. We're gonna find out who did this." Mark said soothingly. "We'll get her back! I promise! Somehow."

"Yeah." Steve mumbled. His face was clothed in doubt.

"Excuse me." Katherine said sadly, and left the room. This was all so awful and she needed to be alone to digest it. Amanda gulped, trying to keep her composure.

* * *

Amanda knocked on the bedroom door in the hallway upstairs. Katherine hadn't come out since she'd gone in there and that was half an hour ago. "Kat? Honey, you okay?" Amanda asked softly.

"No." Katherine responded sadly.

"All right if I come in?" Amanda asked. No response. Amanda opened the door, entered, and slightly shut the door behind her. Katherine was sitting down dejectedly on the edge of her bed. Her face was filled with disappointment. Amanda sat down beside her and wrapped her arm around her shoulder. Katherine leaned her weary head on Amanda's shoulder. "Hey, honey, I'm so sorry." Amanda said tenderly. "But it'll work out. The truth will come out somehow." Katherine sighed.

"I can't believe this happened." She said angrily. "Stacy's so good, she's such a kind person. She doesn't deserve to be in jail!"

"I know." Amanda nodded sadly, stroking her friend's long hair.

"It's wrong, and I want my sister here where she belongs." Katherine cried.

"Shh. Shh. She'll be back."

"How do _you_ know? You don't."

"Well, we're gonna do something about it." Amanda said with determination.

Mark had been standing outside the door listening, and gulped at his younger granddaughter's heartbroken words. He couldn't stand hearing her so hurt like this. He cautiously peeked his head in the door. "Hey. All right if I come in?" He asked. Katherine angrily shrugged her shoulders. Mark stepped toward them and gazed thoughtfully at his son's daughter who was so much like him, not just in appearance but also in character. She'd always had a strong, confident personality, just like Steve. Mark knew this whole mess was hurting her deeply. It was double pain for him to see his son and his son's offspring so emotionally and mentally tortured. "It'll be okay, sweetie." Mark said compassionately. "We'll get Stacy out of this."

"I wish everyone would stop saying that when they don't know it for sure!" Katherine blurted. "It's _not_ making me feel better."

"I know." Mark sighed sympathetically and touched her shoulder. "I'm sorry, honey. I just don't know what else to say."

"You don't really have to say anything." Katherine responded. "Just please don't leave me alone right now. I just need someone to be with me."

"We're both here, Kat." Mark whispered.

"I...I just don't believe it!" Jessie threw his arms up in frustration. Stacy and Katherine Sloan were the daughters of his very best friend and they'd both been to him like nieces. Jessie was outraged at the thought of one of them having to spend the night in jail. He'd been there before himself, and it had been a traumatizing experience for him. He shuddered to think of Stacy alone down there at the station, being accused of a terrible crime that he knew she didn't commit. He silently prayed that they wouldn't keep her there tonight, he didn't want her to have to go through what he did. Jail was no place for either of his 'nieces', jail was for criminals! "I mean, how could they do a thing like that?!" He blurted. "Stacy's never done a crooked thing in her life. She's sweet, she's caring, she's thoughtful...I just don't see how they could up and arrest her like that! The can's no place for someone like her. How could the police do this to her, with your and your dad's reputations..."

"I _know,_ I _know_ , Jess! You're not helping right now. Please...just shut up!" Steve snapped. Everything Jessie was saying Steve felt himself, but where would it get him? Nowhere. Just commending his daughter to his superiors and colleagues wouldn't be enough to exonerate her, or keep her from being held on suspicion. And Steve hated himself for thinking this, but the case _was_ pretty conclusive, and right now there wasn't one darn thing he could come up with to free his daughter from jail.

"I'm confused on something else. Why are _you_ here at home? Why aren't you down there?" Jessie asked Steve almost accusingly, looking directly into his eyes.

"Everyone knows me down there, Jess." Steve replied flatly. "Masters told me to come home. He said that with the suspect being a relative, this case could get us both too personally and emotionally involved. And that it would be a distraction for everyone, especially me from focusing on solving it."

"Well, I disagree." Jessie crossed his arms. "I think you need to be there! At least to show Stacy that you believe her. She needs to know that _you know_ she's innocent. Imagine what she's thinking right now. She's probably scared to death, wondering what's gonna happen to her. And how much more scared she'd be with her father not there."

"Stacy knows I believe her." Steve muttered, staring down at his fingers that he kept running on the desk. "She knows I'd never think otherwise!"

"Well, as a doctor, I'm supposed to reassure my patients that they're safe and that I'm there to take care of them." Jessie stated. "And that's what I think _you_ should do. Look, Steve. _I_ was in jail, remember? I was in the same boat your daughter is, and...and also when your father was."

" _Please!"_ Steve gulped hard, glaring wrathfully at his friend. "Don't talk about it!" He really, really didn't want to go back down _that_ infernal road! Annie sadly plopped her head in his lap and gazed up at him with mournful eyes. He pursed his lips and stroked her head. She raised her paw on his knee. Rubbing his hand against the soft fur was a much-needed stress reliever at the moment.

"Look, Steve," Jessie said again, "when I was arrested and spent the night in the clink, the only thing that kept me sane was the assurance that you all believed in my innocence. I still think you should at least tell her." Steve sighed heavily...again.

* * *

 **Please, I'd like to know your thoughts. If I get criticism, I'll try to listen, but if you plain just don't like the story, then you don't have to read it. But it would help to hear your feedback. If you don't like the story, well...it's _my_ story, so that's why it's turning out this way.**


	7. Chapter 7 A Long Night

Inside the interrogation room, Stacy Sloan sat dejectedly in the chair she'd been instructed to sit in by Corporal Jeffers when they'd brought her in for questioning. This was all unbelievably frightening and she shivered. Her elbows rested on the table and she tightly clenched her fists, resting her chin on them. She couldn't believe this was real! It all felt like a bad dream. Through the years, she'd watched scenarios like this on TV and in the movies, she'd watched her father go through this routine multiple times with suspects, and had heard of testimonies that had been voiced in this room, but...but this wasn't just a story being portrayed to her. This was really happening, and to _her!_ She was the suspect.

Jeffers set the tape recorder on the table and turned it on. Then Stacy saw a familiar face that she'd missed earlier at the Loomis's home. Detective Cheryl Banks stepped in, her face solemn. She didn't like this anymore than Stacy did, but Stacy was still relieved to see her. She knew this had to be done, and Jeffers had been gruffly all business, but Stacy knew how good a friend Cheryl was of Steve's and hoped she'd be gentle with her. "Hello, Stacy." Cheryl said quietly.

"Hello," Stacy replied sadly. Cheryl sat down across from her while Corporal Jeffers stood against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Cheryl folded her hands together on the table.

"I know this isn't easy for you, Stacy." Cheryl stated. "But we have to ask..."

"I understand." Stacy nodded, hanging her head. She gulped then faced her dad's partner. "But, Cheryl, where's Dad?" Cheryl frowned.

"I'm sorry, Stacy. He left." She said dryly.

"What? He...he left?!" Stacy gasped, and started shivering. She couldn't believe her ears! Steve just up and...left? He left her here, tonight of all nights, to fend for herself? He couldn't have! "He really left?" Stacy cried.

"Yes, Stacy." Cheryl replied sadly. "He went on home."

"B...but, why?" Stacy begged. First she's charged as a criminal, then her dad just left her all alone? "Why did he do that?!"

"He was told to go home, Stacy." Cheryl answered. "Believe me, he didn't want to."

"He didn't? I'm glad to hear that!" Stacy sighed, half-relieved. Yet, she was still scared. How could she face this thing tonight without Steve? She didn't think she could.

"We're gonna have to ask what happened tonight. What were you doing in Horace Loomis's house in the first place?"

Stacy bit her lip and winced. "I was going to try to reason with him, though it probably wouldn't have done any good." She began.

"Reason with him? What about?" Cheryl raised an eyebrow.

"He was going to fire me!" Stacy cried. "He got all over my case today, calling me names, and he just blew up about my work. He demanded that I turn in my complete report on the construction accident within an hour, but I wouldn't be able to because I had to finish up my story about the Hawkins' case because the deadline was in two hours."

"Did you tell him that, or ask him to wait?" Cheryl inquired.

"I tried, but he wouldn't listen or let me talk. There's no way I could've given him my report on the construction incident because it wasn't complete or even due yet. He said if I didn't improve on my sloppiness and turn in my report on it when he said, he said that he was going to sack me, with no compensation, no letter of recommendation, or anything. He said that no paper in the county would want me and that he'd make sure they didn't." Tears streamed down Stacy's face.

"That must have made you feel pretty bad." Corporal Jeffers stated dryly.

"Of course it did!" Stacy blurted. She didn't appreciate the cop's cold manner. "I've worked for years to become a writer like this. I was trying to do my job. He really flew off the handle."

"Had he ever gotten this out of hand before?" Cheryl asked.

"Not with _me_ ," Stacy answered. "He's _never_ been a pleasant or even nice person to work for. But I don't remember him getting this angry before, with me."

"Then if he was such an ogre, why did you work for him?" Jeffers asked.

"Because I like my _work."_ Stacy said emphatically. "I wanted to do a good job, and I hoped that if I did, maybe along the way _something_ would please him and he wouldn't be so unreasonable."

"What did you do after?" Cheryl continued.

"I went to the exit stairs where I could be alone," Stacy answered. "I cried. When I was settled down, I came back to my desk and tried to finish my work. When I'd completed it, I took it to his office, but he wasn't there. I found his secretary who told me that he'd gone out to lunch and that he'd left. He didn't come back all day. Then his secretary told me that he wouldn't be back until morning, but also that he wanted to see me tomorrow at 8:30 sharp! I feel that I knew what _that_ meant, and I was afraid! When we all finally signed out, I know it was risky, but I decided to drive to his house and at least try to reason with him."

"Stacy, where did this row occur?" Cheryl asked.

"In our work area."

"Was anyone else around when it happened? Did they hear it?"

"Anyone who didn't hear it must be stone deaf!" Stacy remarked. "Many of them were busy with their own work, but they heard him. Mavis Anders and Henry Stilton were close by when it happened. They heard everything."

"Did you tell anyone that you were going to your boss's house?" Jeffers asked with his arms crossed.

"Yes, I did. I called and told my grandpa, Dr. Sloan."

"What happened when you got there?" Jeffers asked again.

"I rang the doorbell and knocked several times, but no one answered. I knocked on the door, and it opened for me! So I walked right in."

"You walked right in? Even when you weren't invited? With the state he'd been in?" Jeffers sputtered.

"Yes." Stacy answered guiltily, hanging her head. "I was scared, but I was desperate too. I didn't want to lose my job! Dad and Grandpa have taught us to stand up for ourselves when people try to get us down without a good reason, and I was trying to do that. I called out, but no one answered, not even his wife. I went to his study but he wasn't there. I was about to leave when I saw his arm out of the corner of my eye. I approached the desk and found him lying on the floor. I called his name more than once but he didn't respond. I saw blood on the carpet and turned him over, and...and he...he was bleeding, with a knife sticking straight in his heart!" Stacy shuddered at the gory memory.

"Did you touch the knife?" Cheryl asked.

"No! I didn't touch that thing!" Stacy shook her head emphatically.

"But there were blood stains on your hands." Jeffers interjected skeptically. "How do you explain that?"

"I got the blood on my hands when I touched Mr. Loomis's shirt and turned him over, but by the time I realized that, Mrs. Loomis and a man arrived!"

"This isn't looking good for you, Stacy." Cheryl stated solemnly, shaking her head.

"I know it isn't." Stacy bit her lip and hung her head. "But it's the truth." Just then, Chief Masters stepped in. Stacy's eyes widened and she gulped at his presence. He was a usually just man, but he was ethical too and right now his job description was like an impending doom to her. His face showed no emotion, and she was afraid he was going to have a voice to match.

"Hello, Miss Sloan." He said formally, approaching the table.

"Hello," Stacy said lowly as she faced him with worried eyes.

"Out of respect for your father, Captain Newman and Detective Banks tried to put in a good word for you, but I still have a job to do, and I have to ask you a couple questions." He added.

"Yes, sir." Stacy nodded. The chief, her father's superior leaned forward with his palms flat on the table.

"Miss Sloan, do you realize that you're in a lot of trouble?"

"Yes, I _do."_ Stacy moaned.

"You're in a bad spot, Miss Sloan." Jeffers added.

Chief Masters continued. "I have to ask you, and I want the truth."

"Of course." Stacy replied sadly.

"Did you kill Horace Loomis?" The chief asked her directly. Stacy's eyes threatened to well up again.

"No, _sir!"_ She declared emphatically. "I didn't. I didn't kill him! He was dead when I got there. I didn't do this, sir. I didn't kill anyone!"

The chief sighed heavily and stood up straight again. "I'm glad to hear that, Miss Sloan," he said, "but I'm gonna lay on the line what's piling up against you. You had a bad fight with your boss today, he threatened to fire and slander you all over the county, you were upset, you went to his house uninvited and unannounced, you went inside his home uninvited and unannounced, you got his blood stains on your hands, and your were caught at the scene of the crime with the body. You had motive and opportunity!"

"Do you understand what this all means?" Jeffers asked.

Stacy winced and the tears came again. "Yes!" She nodded. "But I didn't kill anyone!"

"I'm sorry, Miss Sloan, but we can't deny all the evidence against you, circumstantial as it may be. We have no choice but to charge you with the murder of Horace Loomis in the first degree." Chief Masters groaned. Stacy gasped though she'd felt this coming. The chief opened the door and dismally nodded to Corporal Jeffers who stepped toward the table.

"Stacy Sloan, you're being charged for the murder of Horace Loomis, in the first degree." He said gruffly, taking her arm. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." Stacy gulped hard as she stood up and nodded and this time, the weeping burst out of her mouth.

Stacy still couldn't believe this was real! She'd never dreamed she'd be hearing these words referring to _her!_ She'd heard them on television and heard her dad with partners say it so many times, but this was different. _She_ was the one being charged as a criminal! Cheryl's voice interrupted her swirling thoughts.

"You have the right to make one phone call." She said. Stacy raised her head.

"Oh, please! Please, where is the phone?" She begged.

"I'll show you." Cheryl said softly.

* * *

"Come on! She said she didn't touch the blasted murder weapon!" Steve protested on his phone. He knew it was useless, but he was striving for _anything, any_ legal reason he could think of to keep his daughter out of jail. "If she said she didn't touch it, then she didn't!"

"I know that, Steve." Cheryl calmly responded on the other end. "And I'm so sorry for all this. I know it's so hard on you and her, but you know the drill. You know the routine! We don't have a choice."

Steve sighed heavily and pounded his clenched fist on the wall. He knew it was all true, all ugly true. Stacy had had motive and opportunity. His partners _didn't_ have a choice. "Can I at least speak with her?" He growled.

"Of course." Cheryl said softly. "She's right here."

Steve set his phone to speaker mode so that Mark, Katherine, Amanda, and Jessie could all hear Stacy's voice. They all waited with baited breath. Mark sat on the desk while Steve leaned on it with his palms flat on the surface. Annie the dog was sitting at Mark's feet. Amanda was sitting on the arm of the blue armchair with her arm around a somber Katherine, and Jessie stood next to them with a friendly hand on Katherine's shoulder. "Stacy, honey? You there?" Steve asked.

"Hi, Dad," Stacy's hurt voice responded on the other end.

"Hey, you okay?" Steve prodded. The only response they got was a whimper.

"Don't be an idiot, Steve." Jessie huffed. "Of course she isn't!" Amanda shushed him.

"I'm glad to hear your voice." Stacy spoke up. Her own voice was cracked with emotion. "I really wish _you_ were here, Dad! It's scary here, especially without _you!"_

"I know, hon, and I'm sorry. But Masters told me to come home." Steve groaned. "I'll come to see you in the morning, I promise." They heard sniffling.

"Stacy? Honey, it's me." Mark spoke up, leaning over the phone.

"Grandpa? Is that you?" Stacy asked hopefully.

"Yes. I'm right here." Mark replied soothingly. "We're all right here listening. Try not to worry, Sweetheart. We're going to work on this right away. We'll get you back to us as soon as possible."

"Grandpa, will you come see me too?" Stacy begged. "Please?"

"Of course I will, Sweetie."

"We all will, when they'll let us!" Jessie chimed in. Stacy faintly chuckled on the other end, but only faintly.

"Hi, Jessie." She said shakily.

"Cheer up, Stace." Jessie chirped. "You know us. We'll catch the real crook really soon. You'll be back home before you know it!"

"Thank you," Stacy said weakly. "I'm so sorry for ruining your dinner."

"Don't think of it." Jessie answered. "It wouldn't be the same without you, Stace. But we'll all make up for it when you come home."

 _If I come home,_ Stacy shuddered at the thought. "It's...it's so good to hear all your voices."

"Good to hear yours too, honey," Amanda said. "We're thinking a lot about you."

"Oh, same here!"

"Stace? I...I can't wait to see you." Katherine said.

"Me either."

"I miss you."

"Me too!"

" _All right. You're gonna need to come with us,"_ Corporal Jeffers voice filtered in from the background.

"Ooohh!" Jessie, Mark, Katherine, and Amanda all sighed.

"Oh, please just give me one more minute!" Stacy begged. "Please. Just one more minute! That's all. Please!" They couldn't see, but Cheryl smiled and nodded to Stacy.

" _All right. But only **one** more minute." _Jeffers stated.

"Thank you." Stacy said, then her voice broke. "I...I have to go." She cried. "I...I love you all...very much. I'm glad I got to talk with you."

"So are we, dear." Amanda gulped, biting her lip, fighting her own tears.

"Try to get some rest, Stacy." Mark said reassuringly, though he knew that was a useless statement. "We'll see you in the morning. Love you, sweetie."

"Love you, Grandpa." Stacy sobbed. "I miss you."

"Try to stay calm, honey." Steve said in a determined voice. "We're gonna get you through this! We're gonna find out and catch who really committed this crime! We're gonna get you back, I promise!"

"Mmm-hmm." Stacy moaned on the other end.

"I'll see you in the morning. I love you, honey." Steve moaned.

"I love you too, Dad!" Stacy wept.

" _All right, let's go."_ Jeffers groaned and Stacy's weeping voice trailed away as she was led to the incarceration process. Katherine hung her head sadly and Amanda held her her close. Jessie patted her back and Mark walked over to her.

"Cheryl? You still there?" Steve asked anxiously.

"Yeah, partner. I'm here." Cheryl answered.

"Cheryl? You guys, please keep an eye on her." Steve begged. He knew he sounded pathetic for a tough cop, but this was very hard on him and all his family, and right now, he didn't even try to conceal his feelings of regret and pain. "Make sure she's all right."

"Don't worry, Steve." Cheryl said. "She'll be taken care of. It's not like your names haven't made their way around this place before, you know." His partner's reassuring words were little comfort to him.

"Just...make sure she's safe, okay?" Steve insisted.

"We will." Cheryl nodded. "And Steve? You have my word, we'll do all we can to help you. We'll do anything we can to help you find who _really_ did this!"

"Thanks." Steve muttered. "Sloan out." And he hung up. For 10 minutes, everyone just remained tensely silent in their current positions. Steve sighed heavily a lot. He didn't know what else to do.

Jessie gulped and finally spoke up. "Well, guys, I hate to say this, but I need to go. Early shift tomorrow." He said solemnly.

"Right." Mark sighed.

Jessie rubbed Katherine's shoulder encouragingly. "Hey? We'll get her back." He tried to say cheerfully. Katherine didn't say anything, she just bit her lip. "Well, I guess I'll see you all, bright and early!"

"Good-night, Jessie." Mark said. "And thanks for sticking around."

"Aw, any time." Jessie smiled sadly, then started to leave the room. He stopped when he reached Steve. He gripped his best friend's shoulder. Steve was like a big brother to him, and he was sickened at how lost Steve appeared. Usually Steve was the strong one, the one to take charge in the midst of chaos, the one to keep busy especially when things got tough, the one to be there when his friends needed help. But this time...this time, he needed his friends to be around for _him!_ Jessie sensed a streak of helplessness and anxiety in his best friend's manner and he wished there was something he could do. "She's telling the truth, Steve." Jessie offered. "We all know that, and it's gotta come out."

"Yeah." Steve said gruffly, pursing his lips.

"If there's anything I can do..."

"Thanks. I'll let you know. 'Night, Jess." Steve said quickly. Jessie sighed.

"Good-night, guys."

"Thanks, Jessie." Mark replied, trying to give him some consolation after Steve's cold manner.

"You coming, Amanda?" Jessie asked. Amanda looked to her dear friend.

"Mark? If you like, I can stay here tonight, if you want." Amanda offered. Katherine's eyes lit up hopefully.

"Thanks, but..." Steve started to say, but his father stopped him short.

"That's really sweet of you, honey." Mark said gratefully. "Personally, I'd really appreciate it. We could use an extra pair of hands around here tonight." Katherine sighed in relief.

"Aw, don't mention it." Amanda smiled. "I can quickly drop by home and get a few things. Won't take me long." She stood up and grabbed her purse.

"Thanks a lot!" Mark nodded passionately.

"Thank you, Amanda!" Katherine exclaimed.

"Amanda, you don't have to do this." Steve groaned. His friend's vibrant eyes narrowed at him.

"I can do whatever I want. And I'm staying with you guys tonight." She insisted. "Besides, CJ and Dion are both at sleepovers tonight."

"Thanks again, honey." Mark said.

"Anything for you, dears." Amanda said. "I'll be right back. Come on, Jessie. Let's go."

"Well, I guess I'd better go get the guest room ready." Mark said, then leaned in toward Steve as he passed him. _"Steve?"_ He whispered. His son glanced glumly at him, and Mark tilted his head toward the leather chair...where Katherine was sitting, scared and heartbroken. _"Give her some love, son."_ Mark urged, patted him on the back, then left.

Steve stood there, gazing thoughtfully at his only remaining at home child. This wasn't supposed to happen! If Steve could have done anything in the world to keep his daughter, his little girl-both little girls!-from going through this bad dream, he would've done it in a heartbeat! But his hands were tied, cruelly tied. One of his precious daughters would be spending the night in an unwelcoming cell, among cons, felons, and...and criminals; while his other daughter, the one who reminded those around him so much of himself, was here safe at home, filled with fear and worry, and a pain in her heart that neither his dad or his best friend could give her pills for. He couldn't be near Stacy tonight and let her know how much he cared, but he _could_ with Katherine! He sighed heavily and quietly walked over to her.

He stood in front of her, trying to appear strong and brave. She leaned her face wearily on her hand. Steve knelt down and rubbed her arm. "I'm sorry about this, Kat." He groaned. "It's a mess, and it makes me so angry. I'm sorry you have to go through this. But...but I'm so glad _you're still_ here with us! I love you, sweetheart. Very much." He stroked her cheek. "And I wish I could make you feel better, but I know I can't. But I just want you to know, you're very special to me. You always have been, ever since you were a baby. I'll always care for you, honey." Katherine held back a sob, but didn't say anything. Steve stole his arm around her shoulder and she leaned forward and clung to him. He shushed gently to her and stroked her hair as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Shh. It's all right. It's...all right," he spoke in hushed tones as a gagging lump clenched his throat. He winced and gritted his teeth as tears slowly trickled their way down his face.

* * *

Stacy Sloan had been fingerprinted and all the tactics that came with incarceration. Now, she was clad in an orange jump suit that she'd seen only on other people. She quietly walked down the long hall, alongside Corporal Jeffers and Sgt. Barnes who were leading her to her lodgings for the night. Their footsteps clicked on the floor and echoed in the hallway, making the place sound more and more isolated. Stacy shivered. She already didn't like it here. She knew that her father's coworkers were only doing their jobs, nevertheless, she was still appalled and shocked that they were the ones putting her in this place. Corporal Jeffers finally halted in front of Cell #342. He unlocked the squeaking door and pulled it open. "This is where you'll be staying while you're here, Miss Sloan." He said dryly. Through this whole thing tonight, he'd kept up his stern cop image and hadn't given Stacy the slightest bit of hope that he believed her. He'd firmly remained all business. At least with Cheryl, she'd given her a hint that they knew she was innocent! But Corporal Jeffers had stayed gruff.

Stacy looked sadly at the small room that had another occupant, another woman who stared at her with great interest. Stacy turned away from the stranger's gaze and dismally stepped into her 'bedroom'. The door loudly clanged shut behind her and echoed, making her ears ring. The impact of it behind her back felt like a taunting doom whispering in her ear, "Ha, ha. You're stuck. You're never getting out of here!" Stacy gasped and slowly sat down on her hard bed. She hung her head and ran her fingers along the covers. She grimaced as she heard the clanking of keys sealing her confinement for the night. Jeffers sighed heavily and walked away. Tears poured out of Stacy's eyes again.

"Hey, Miss Sloan?" Sgt. Barnes said lowly. Stacy had forgotten all about him.

"Y-yes?" She replied.

"I'm very sorry this happened." He said sympathetically. "And I'm truly sorry that right now this is the way it has to be. I feel bad, for you and your father. We all respect him a lot, and would never do anything to hurt him. If there's anything I can do..."

"T-thank you." Stacy said shakily.

"Would you like me to give him a message for you?" Stacy painfully glanced up at the kind sergeant.

"You can. Tell him I miss him and the rest of my family very much, and that I love him. Y-you c-can tell him that..." Stacy couldn't contain a sob. "T-tell him I really want to see him, and...and...and that I u-underst-stand this I-isn't h-his f-fault!" At that point, Stacy buried her face in her hands and wept.

"I'll do that." Barnes said. "And I'm really sorry." Then he departed.

Stacy flopped backwards on the hard cot and faced the wall so that her cell mate couldn't see her tears. She wrapped her arms around herself and her shoulders heaved with sobbing. " _So..."_ came a voice she wasn't familiar with but was really close by. _"_ Miss _Sloan_ is it?" There was a cruel chuckle. "Well, well, well, what do you know? I can't help grinning to think that high and mighty Lt. Steve Sloan is feeling exactly at this moment like his daughter is." Stacy panted and her blurry eyes widened. She sat up and stared in shock at her cell mate. The woman had to be in her late thirties or early forties, with short carrot colored hair. She smirked at Stacy with narrow eyes. The grin on her face made Stacy feel sick-well, worse than she did already-.

"Why did you say that?!" Stacy cried out in a defensive tone. "It hurts so much! I miss my dad, and my family. How could you say something so horrible?" The merciless woman chuckled again, shaking her head. Stacy glared hotly through her tears, not at all amused by this creature's joke.

"You being in here was a big surprise." The woman smiled wryly. "I couldn't be more excited if it was my birthday. I've been waiting for an opportunity like this for a long time. I guess it's true, 'all good things come to those who wait'."

"W-what are you talking about? _Who_ are you?" Stacy demanded through clenched teeth.

"Your nit-wit grandpa out-smarted me and your big-headed father with his shiny badge put me here. I'm Marsha Harring." The woman smiled widely. Stacy's brows furrowed. "I'm sure you've heard of me?"

"I...I don't remember exactly." Stacy replied in confusion.

"Then let me refresh your memory." Marsha said in a coy voice. "My husband was a drug dealer, and made big money. Our partners evaded the police like pros. _I_ was the secretary, and kept a sharp eye on the books. One night, I saw one of our fellows attempt to break away and turn us all in. Well, as you can imagine, we weren't about to let that happen."

"Naturally." Stacy muttered.

"It was simple, really. I just pulled out my gun and shot him. When my husband heard of my heroism, I demanded that he give me a larger compensation for my troubles in _his_ occupation. He refused, so high-handed, and never listened. So, I killed him too."

"I think I remember hearing about you now." Stacy nodded solemnly. "How could you do such a thing as if it was an everyday occurrence?"

"You stupid girl." Marsha pffted _._ "Don't you know anything? He agreed to let me in on the deal, and didn't pay up. So, I rightfully took what was rightfully mine."

"You're pathetic!" Stacy declared, appalled at the gall of this greedy woman.

" _No._ That's where you're wrong. You and you're whole family are pathetic. Especially that grandfather of yours,-ha!-the _dear, unblemished Dr. Mark Sloan. Please!_ Does he think he's God, able to read into people's minds and know all their thoughts?"

"You're a fine one to talk about God!" Stacy exclaimed. "You're mean, and uncaring. My grandpa and my dad are both very highly respected members of this community, and I'll have you know that they earned every drop of it!"

"Oh," Marsha groaned in mock pain, "must you rub it in?"

"Just leave me alone, please." Stacy moaned and lay back on her cot with her face and body facing the wall. She clasped her hands tightly to her chest. It felt cold in here and she shivered. This was going to be horrible: not only was she suspected of murder, the very thing her entire family fought against, but now she was stuck with an unkind, bullying killer for a room mate! Stacy gulped hard and subtly pulled out a small piece of paper she'd hidden inside her orange jumpsuit. In the light through her bars shining on the shadowed wall, she read the note Cheryl had slipped her before she was taken back here.

" _If you need ANYTHING, let me know!"_

:the little piece of scrap paper read on it. Stacy clutched it to her neck. She had been very hurt and extremely frightened when Cheryl had told her that Steve had gone home that night. She'd felt horribly abandoned, just like when she was little and her mom died. It was an incredible relief when she was told that Steve had been trying to stay at the station near her, at least he hadn't wanted to leave! But she still missed him. She needed her father, she needed his strong presence that made her feel safe, but his superior was preventing it! If she could just hear his straight-to-the-point but caring, no-nonsense voice speak to her, then she could rest at ease a bit. She couldn't erase from her mind that awful look of shock and disbelief on his face when he'd been told that she was the prime suspect. But she _had_ heard him on, the phone, and he'd said that he loved her and would find the real killer! Stacy sighed. In the midst of meeting Marsha Harring, she'd forgotten about the phone call to her family. "He believes me," she whispered to herself. "He knows I didn't do this!"

Then her mind went to Katherine, her sister and grandma's namesake. They'd been close their whole lives, and though there had been a few rough spots during the adolescent years, they were best friends and always tried to take care of each other. They shared many laughs, fun memories, and deep secrets. Though Stacy and Kat both enjoyed their solitude and had very different personalities, they would truly be lost without each other!

Stacy missed Amanda. The kind woman and sweetheart of a friend had always felt like a big sister to both of the Sloan girls, and as they'd grown through the years, their relationship had become stronger. She'd always enjoyed and strived hard to help take care of them, and they both loved her dearly for it though she could never replace Julie, their mom. Amanda had filled in many areas of their lives where they needed a mother, and Amanda's generous spirit would've made Steve's former wife proud.

Stacy smiled sadly as she thought of Jessie, of his adorable boyish charm, and what a fun, good friend he was. They could almost always count on him if any of them needed his attention in the ER, he'd usually find a way to tag along on investigations with Steve or sometimes even the Sloans' special family trips, and he was good at bringing a smile to their faces most of the time, if not a laugh too. Jessie was a loyal guy, and he'd gone the extra mile many times for a friend, especially the Sloans, after all the kindness and care they'd shown him. He'd do anything for them, even when sometimes they'd protested it regarding his safety, _or_ just his at times _too_ inquisitive personality.

Her mind went to Jack, CJ and Deon, and Alex, Delores, and Madison. The more she thought of all the dear people she loved who equally loved her back, the more heartbroken she felt.

Right now Stacy really, really wanted Mark, her and Katherine's dear grandpa, the sweetest old man they'd ever known. Where Steve was stern and sometimes just grouchy, Mark was cheerful and soft-spoken, unless it was a disciplinary situation. Mark was so gentle, compassionate, warm, and loving to those around him, not only as a doctor but also as a human being! He had the perfect bedside manner, and he was a very good listener. Part of it being that he'd experienced his own grief when his wife died, and he understood what it was like to need someone to talk to, to have someone let you know that they were there if you needed them, just so you'd be assured of it. Mark was seldom ever cross. Stacy and Katherine had often discussed over and over again that they couldn't fathom how some of his worst enemies could even contemplate being so cold and horrible as to wish someone as genuine and loving as their grandfather harm. Oh, how Stacy missed all of them right now, but especially Mark. His calm, reassuring voice and soothing touch she craved so badly! But he said he'd come to see her in the morning, so that was something she had to look forward to.

"You're thinking of them right now, aren't you?" Marsha pried in a snarky voice. Stacy glared and clutched her arms around herself, hoping the woman would think she was asleep and leave her alone. She made a yawning sound. "You're not fooling anybody, Miss Sherlock Jr.

You were too shook up when they brought you in here to be tired. I bet right now you're thinking of all these wonderful things you only imagine about them."

" _I'm NOT imagining!"_ Stacy growled in a low whisper. She faced the wall and flopped onto her stomach. The surface underneath was hard, and the cot was definitely not like her blanket at home. _Home!_ It felt so far away at the moment.

* * *

Steve lay flat on his back in bed with the covers off. He stared angrily and sadly at his dark ceiling. Tonight, he couldn't do anything for his eldest daughter, except pray like Katherine and Mark were. Prayer, well, that was something he personally wasn't very good at. Yet he could admit, when his family did, it made him feel warm, and safe, and they sounded as if they were truly talking directly to God. Well, Steve couldn't seem to get any of the right words to come out of his mouth.

He didn't want to be thoughtless, but he half wished that instead of jail, that Stacy was staying in Community General Hospital tonight. If only she was there with a non-life threatening but clear sickness or injury, then he could visit her and try to cheer her up without trying to force himself not to question her virtues. And at the hospital, she would've been under the watchful eyes of Mark, Amanda, and Jessie who would've given her the best medical care. If only that was the case tonight, instead of what it really was. It wasn't that Steve distrusted his coworkers, it was just...they...they'd be so formal and stick to their business manners and he wasn't sure how that would help Stacy right now. He knew that she needed comfort, but where would she find it, the kind she knew, in the police station?

In the morning, he'd get the info he needed and jump right onto things, starting with the crime scene, and this time, he would listen to every hunch that Mark felt, no matter how unbelievable it may appear. He'd have to find _something,_ something there that was proof his daughter was innocent.

He felt so sad, thinking of coming home and not hearing Stacy in a different room talking aloud to herself, either acting out the scene in her story that she was writing about, or confronting a mean bully in a book she was reading. She'd done that for as long as any of them could remember, and at times it had become pretty irritating, though totally amusing. Steve chuckled in amusement, thinking of the many times he'd walked in on her performing like an actress and then to see the priceless look on her face in embarrassment when she realized that someone had been watching her! He grimaced right now, feeling a longing to be able to do that again. What if he never got to experience that again? A gagging heaviness wallowed in the middle of his stomach at that thought. What if his little girl, like Mark when he'd been framed for murder, would never make it out of prison according to his coworkers? What if the case was so open shut that they'd never have a chance to save her? No, no, Steve Sloan would never let _that_ happen again! But what if the killer, whoever the cockroach was, rigged the frame up so cleverly that Stacy would easily be convicted in court without reasonable doubt in front of a jury? "No, no, no." Steve shook his head. "That _won't_ happen again!" He growled. He'd failed to protect his father during the worst time of their lives, at the time when Mark had desperately needed him most, and Steve had almost lost his dad, because some scum out there had been able to convince the people Steve worked with that Mark was guilty! That whole experience had been one horrific nightmare for all of them, and Steve absolutely refused to let his daughter's predicament come anywhere close to what Mark had gone through.

It had sickened Steve years ago when he'd had to arrest Jessie, his good friend, on murder charges and watch him be hauled off to jail. At first, the evidence against Jessie had been pretty conclusive, but as Steve, Mark, Amanda, and Jessie's well-known defense attorney, Ben Matlock had started investigating, the clues had led them in many different directions. And in the end, Jessie had been cleared and the real killer had been exposed. Steve only hoped with all his heart that the same would happen for Stacy!Steve played over and over again in his mind those horrible moments at the scene of the crime. When he lived again through his boss telling him that Stacy was the one they suspected, then bringing her in where he'd have to see her like that, the bleeding father's stomach burned queasily. He made a dash for the bathroom. Steve doubled over the toilet and vomited bitterly. When he was finally through, he quickly cleansed his palette with minty mouthwash, then headed back to bed where he just slumped over. He sat in that position with his elbows propped up on his knees and his head in his hands. He was strongly tempted to go now to the crime scene and give it a good scouring. He'd sniff out every inch of the place 'til he found one good clue!

Steve heard footsteps enter his room. He'd know those slippers anywhere. Mark sat down beside him and rubbed his back. Though he was grateful for his dad's presence more than he could express, he wasn't in the mood to be comforted and told that everything would be okay. What he needed was a solution, a lead, an extremely alluring hunch that would take his sleep away 'til he found what he was looking for. "I heard someone in the bathroom." Mark said quietly. "I figured it was you."

Steve snickered a little. "So you know me inside out and upside down, huh?" Then his face dropped again and he finally faced Mark. "Dad, what can I do? What are we gonna do?" He asked wearily. Mark's brows furrowed in sympathy.

"Just like at the hospital, son: everything we now how to do." Mark replied. "And pray."

"Yeah, pray." Steve huffed skeptically. "I think, uh...you'll have to do that, Dad. You know how, and...you now that I'm not very good at it."

"You don't have to be, son." Mark shook his head. "You don't have to use fancy words. Just speak from your heart. The Lord already knows what you want, but you need to tell Him."

Steve nodded silently, staring at the floor. Mark bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut, keeping a firm hand around Steve's shoulder. "Lord," Mark began, "You told us in Your Word to ask and we shall receive. Well, that's what we're doing right now. Lord, our Stacy isn't with us tonight. She's in trouble, and we aren't sure exactly how to help her right now. Lord, it also says in Your word that the truth shall set us free. And that's what we're asking, Lord that Stacy telling the truth and us proving it would free her from jail. Lord, You know her heart better than anyone does, You know _our_ hearts better than anyone else does. Lord, we pray to You right now to guide us and lead us to the right information and sources, like You have so many times in the past. I pray to You and beg of You to shed light on Stacy's innocence just like with Jessie and me when we were accused of the same crime. We all know how much she loves You, and she needs You to comfort her right now while we can't.

'Lord, I pray for Chief Masters and Steve's coworkers, that you'll lead them to the right clues, and open their eyes to see them. Lord, I pray for Katherine. This is breaking her heart and please just wrap Your arms around her and love her, and help us to demonstrate it in the same way so she'll know she's loved and cared for.' " Then Mark paused in silence for a moment and looked at Steve. He was biting his lip and clenching his hands together. Mark continued.

"Lord, I pray for Steve. This is very, very hard for him. He needs Your strength and guidance, and I pray for his comfort, that he will be able to wake up tomorrow refreshed with a clear mind. Grant him Your peace in his heart so he can rest. And I ask the same for Stacy. Lord, give me wisdom and the right words to say, so that I can help all of them through this. We ask these things in the name of Your Son Jesus, Amen." Mark opened his eyes again. Steve was swallowing back tears. Mark rubbed his shoulder.

"Thanks, Dad." Steve muttered, nodding his head.

"Try to get some sleep, son." Mark said sympathetically.

"Yeah." Steve said quickly. Mark left and Steve retreated on his back in bed. Mark's words of prayer were powerful, mostly because they were real and sincere. But at the moment, Steve wasn't too sure about how comfortable he was with trying to trust God to watch over his daughter. He was a cop, and it was _his_ job to do that. Unless it was Mark, or another officer, or Amanda and Jessie, he had a hard time entrusting the safety of those he cared about to someone else.

Steve thought of his mom, wondering how she would handle the situation if she was here. At this moment, Steve felt lonesome for his mother, even though she'd been gone for years. He missed her presence and her experienced wisdom. He rolled over on his side, trying to remember the sound of her voice. Then his thoughts transformed into his beautiful, wonderful Julie, his wife who died when Stacy was seven and Kat was five. All these years, he'd missed her very much, and especially right now. Yeah, he'd had a handful of dates now and then, but he'd never seemed to find any woman who seemed to come close to Julie. She had been one of a kind: sweet but adamant about where she stood, especially when it came to people being treated wrongly; she hadn't been afraid to put the worm on the hook herself when they'd gone fishing, and loved to challenge her husband when he'd taken her to the shooting range for target practice; she wasn't adventurous enough to ride the dirt bike-too dangerous- or go surfing out on the water; she'd loved to sing along with Mark and had been a good dancer; where Steve was stern and maybe too aggressive, Julie had been calm and gentle; when her feelings would be hurt, she'd steal away somewhere to be alone and sort out her thoughts, then return feeling refreshed, most of the time. Steve could go on and on and on about all her wonderful virtues, and the little irritating things that had annoyed him. He actually sometimes missed arguing with her so that they could kiss and makeup and joke about it when it was all over. But right now, the emptiness he felt from her absence was very heavy and so sad. "Sweetheart, I wish you were here right now." Steve bit his lip, tears streaming down his face. "I miss you. I...I need you...so much."

Mark wasn't asleep either. He lay on his side, staring out the window into the night. This morning, when he'd woken up to greet the lovely day, he'd never expected something as terrible as this to happen! His heart ached for his own child and grandchildren. How could this have happened? He was hurting right now along with all of them, but in truth, it was Steve that he was worried about more than any of them. He knew that Steve was angry and deeply distressed about this whole thing, as was he, and the rest of the family. But Steve, being the stubborn and aggressive Sloan, would undoubtedly wear himself to a frazzle trying to solve this case, even to the point of complete exhaustion. Even then, he wouldn't let himself rest, and Mark knew he was going to have to be firm with him. This whole situation was such a mess, and it was only the beginning!

Mark felt awful for Kat, missing her sister and worrying about her. She'd been so looking forward to summer break at college in a few days, and now? Now her family was in the midst of another painful trial. Carlie was supposed to be back in town soon, also on summer break, and Mark sincerely hoped that her good friend's presence would be a great encouragement to Kat, at a time like this!

Mark's face saddened the more and more he thought of Stacy. He couldn't bear to think of her sitting in jail, and with small chance at the moment of being vindicated. And last week, they'd just celebrated her birthday! It had been a rainy, but fun-filled day at the beach house with friends and family; even her coworkers Bob and Becky had come. Everyone had enjoyed themselves, and Stacy had been very happy. That had only been 5 days ago, and tonight she wasn't home where she belonged. _She must be so frightened,_ his thoughts whirled around in his mind. _I know she didn't do it! But, how could things turn out so wrong? Poor thing. I wish I could help her! I only hope she's able to rest tonight, though I'm sure she isn't. One thing's for sure, there's no way this is going to reach the point that it did when_ _ **I**_ _was the one in there! We won't let that happen! Oh, try to be brave, Stacy. I know you're scared, honey, but the truth_ _will_ _prevail. It has to! Just stay calm, sweetheart. You'll be back home, in time. We'll make sure of it!_

Jessie had flipped through the channels on TV when he'd gotten back to his apartment, only to turn it off. He'd gone to bed, but the sleep wouldn't come. After 2 hours of tossing and turning, he finally decided to fix himself a late night snack of crackers with cheese spray. Maybe that would help. But he just stared at the plate in front of him. He smacked the table and stood up, and walked to the window. He crossed his arms and stared outside into the late night. "Why?" He grimaced. "Why? God, why? It's not fair. Why are You doing this to them? Haven't the Sloans been through enough? After all that's happened to them for as long as I've known them, must they go through this too? I don't like it! It's wrong for Stacy to be in jail. She doesn't belong there, You know she doesn't!" Jessie glared and shook his head. Now that he'd vented a bit and verbally gotten it off his chest, he unintentionally yawned as an unexpected fatigue washed over him. He crawled back in bed. "I _cannot_ wait to see the cockroach who framed her get caught! I can't wait to see him get his high-handed frame-up busted!" After another yawn, Jessie Travis drifted into sleep.

* * *

 **Reviews would be helpful. I hope I'm doing a good job with this story. I'm trying to.**


	8. Chapter 8 No Rest for the Accused

**This chapter is extra long, just so you know. Please let me know what you think. But this is my first big Diagnosis Murder fanfic, so I'm new at it.**

* * *

It was 5:30 A.M. Steve hadn't slept a wink. He'd spent the better part of the night tossing and turning, grunting and sighing, pacing back and forth. He decided to call work, about to dial when his phone rang in his hands. It startled him and he jumped. The caller ID said Detective Banks. "Yeah? It's me." Steve said dryly as he answered.

"Steve? I figured you were still awake." Cheryl said on the other line.

Steve ignored the phrase _still_ instead of _already_ and asked, "What's up?"

"Well," Cheryl said in a hesitant voice, "we've been going over some things, and we have some news."

"Good."

"But you're _not_ going to like it." Cheryl warned him. Steve braced himself.

" _What?"_ He growled.

"Don't bite my head off, partner. It's not _my_ fault. I'm sorry, Steve." Cheryl declared solemnly.

"Cut out the chit-chat! Just tell me!" Steve demanded. Her heard her sigh and felt a twinge of regret for being so harsh. After all, she was his friend. But he was _not_ in a good mood right now.

"Steve, we checked out the murder weapon, the knife." Cheryl stated nervously. "It's got Stacy's fingerprints all over it."

Steve gagged and grimaced tightly, clenching the phone in a dangerous, angry grip. He felt as if he'd been run over by a bus, his stomach twisting in a life-sucking knot. His blood veins felt like they were on fire, and he trembled vehemently. He threw his cell phone at the wall, successfully hitting the glass frame of his autographed sports player poster he'd had since he was a kid. But he didn't care. Steve Sloan was mad now, and he had to blow off some steam. He smacked open his bedroom door and stormed down into the garage. Gritting his teeth and growling like a grizzly bear, he snatched his surfboard and stomped down to the beach.

"Steve? Steve? Sloan! Are you there?" Cheryl asked over and over but got no response.

When he was twenty yards away from the beach house, Steve raised the surfboard above his head and thrashed it down into the sand. He kicked it hard, stubbing his bare toe but didn't care. He kicked again, and again, then slammed his knuckle-white fists on it. He glanced at the ocean water in front of him and headed straight toward it. It was still early, and dawn was almost over. Any early risers might see him barefoot on the beach, still clad in his white muscle tank and sleek black sportswear shorts with the red stripes on the side-his bedclothes-, but he didn't care. He reached the water's edge and let it rush over his feet. Steve grimaced hard as he faced the approaching sun. The salty air taste was a much needed therapy for reinvigoration. " _WHY?!"_ He yelled, looking up at the grayish-blue sky with slight hints of yellow. "Why? How could You let this happen?! God, why are You doing this?! I don't understand. I _don't understand!"_ He hung his head in frustration, appreciating the privacy of the beach at dawn. "Now what?" He muttered. Then a gentle hand touched his back. Steve looked back and saw...his own father.

* * *

Mark had only slept for 3 hours, trying to figure out in his head who could've committed this crime, and why they would want to frame Stacy, his kind, soft-spoken granddaughter for it. He couldn't imagine who would be so sinister as to do that, though he'd met some very sickening, warped, crazy, and down right evil people in his path of solving crime. The good doctor was very concerned for Stacy his eldest grandchild, Katherine his wife's namesake and definitely her father's daughter, and most of all...his son. Mark was thankful that they all lived together at the beach house where he could be there to help his family at a time like this. Pills wouldn't help them right now, but he could try to offer them comfort.

Mark had decided to read his Bible first like he did every morning, looking for some passages of hope and encouragement. When he was through, he'd decided to check on Steve, whom he was sure hadn't slept at all, then make a pot of coffee when he'd heard a crash, then loud, heavy, bare footsteps heading downstairs. He'd immediately grabbed his bathrobe, slipped on his slippers, then hurried to his son's bedroom, where he'd found the broken glass of one of Steve's prized nostalgia. He'd been interrupted in his thoughts when he'd heard Cheryl's voice on the phone. "I'll get back with you later." She'd said. Mark had quickly grabbed the phone.

"Detective Banks? Is that you? This is Dr. Sloan." Mark said in a rushed voice.

"Hello, Dr. Sloan. Is Steve all right?"

"I don't know, he just went downstairs."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Sloan, but I have some bad news for you." Cheryl had said quietly. Mark gulped.

"What is it?" He'd asked as calmly as possible. When she'd broken it to him, Mark grimaced and covered his face with his hand. He shook his head, trying to block out what was ringing now in his ears. "I've gotta go!" He'd replied.

"I'm sorry."

Then he'd hung up, and rushed downstairs to find his son. Steve wasn't anywhere. Mark went straight for the back patio doors, opened them, and from his view on the deck, saw his son taking out his frustration on the surfboard. Mark had started to descend down the stairs, but as he reached the board in the sand, Steve was standing still with his arms crossed, staring out at the sea as it swooshed around his ankles.

* * *

Mark stood beside Steve. Steve tilted his head in Mark's direction, but didn't face him. "Dad...please," He said sadly, "it's _not_ okay! And it won't be until we find something."

"I know, son." Mark said sympathetically. "You left your phone on the floor. Cheryl told me." Steve bared his teeth and winced, furiously shaking his head. "Come on. We said we'd visit her this morning and we need some nourishment first to build our strength up." Steve sighed heavily but complied. Father and son quietly walked back to the house together, each wallowing in his own thoughts full of questions.

"Steve, we've been through rougher spots than _this!"_ Mark stated. _"_ If Jessie can be proved innocent, if you guys were able to prove _me_ innocent, then Stacy can be too. I know it's hard, son: you being an officer, and her being a suspect. But we'll get through this." Steve pursed his lips and sighed.

"I know." Steve replied calmly. "I just can't believe what's going on."

"Neither can I." Mark agreed.

"Dad, let's not go down to the precinct yet." Steve suggested. "I want to take a look at the crime scene first."

"I thought you might. Whatever you say." Mark agreed, with his hand on Steve's shoulder as they walked back to the beach house.

"By the way, how did you know where to find me?"

"Father's intuition." Mark grinned, shrugging.

* * *

Stacy had lightly slept for an hour and a half, but it felt like it had only been 5 minutes. She was aroused from slumber when Marsha swatted her shoulder. Stacy jumped, stunned, and looked up at her in bewilderment. "What?" She gasped.

"Time for breakfast, sleepyhead." Marsha smirked in an unfriendly tone. A guard arrived and Stacy rose from her bed and stood at the door like Marsha. Her eyes widened in horror when the guard approached both of them with chains to lock around their ankles! Stacy gasped and nearly fell over. The guard locked their chains on, then stood up.

"Follow me." He said dryly. Stacy's legs felt like lead, and she had to force herself to move forward in obedience. It reminded her of past times when she'd had a fever and her legs felt heavy, making it difficult to walk. When they walked through a hallway with windows showing the inside of the station where the many officers were tending to business, Stacy peered into there, hoping to see Cheryl or someone familiar. She was actually looking for Steve and Mark. They'd said they'd stop by today. Her heart fluttered anxiously, starving for a glimpse of their faces, but all too soon, she was whisked away in the parade of prisoners.

The dining room for the prisoners felt so weird. They were able to move around after receiving their trays of food but there were guards coldly staring them down from their vantage points in the corners. This wasn't like the school cafeteria from her past. This was jail, _jail,_ jail! She was surrounded by thieves, mugs, even murderers! Stacy felt so out of place, and so lonely. She wondered how many more of these faces had been sent here by her father and grandfather. She saw an isolated spot at the end of one of the tables and sat there. She gulped down at her tray of food. There was a cheap looking, packaged cinnamon roll, a carton of milk, and a fruit cup of peaches. Stacy hadn't eaten since last night. Wait, no-she hadn't even eaten dinner yet before she'd stopped at the Loomis house! She was supposed to have dinner at home with her family! Though her stomach should've been speaking to her in belligerent tones at the moment, she just couldn't eat. She had no appetite at all.

" _We are here, back at the home of Horace Loomis and his wife, Janice,"_ A reporter's voice filtered through the room, _"where last night, at approximately 6:30 P.M., Mr. Loomis was stabbed to death with a knife in his own study. Police say that his wife arrived with his attorney to discuss some matters and found him lying on the floor, dead. Not only that, but it has been confirmed that 22-year-old Stacy Sloan, daughter of Lt. Steve Sloan of the Los Angeles Police Department Homicide Division, and a journalist for The Los Angeles Times_ _was found by Mrs. Loomis and the lawyer, bending over the body. It is said that her hands were blood-stained. She has been arrested by police and is in custody, being held for the murder of her boss, Horace Loomis."_ A photo of Stacy appeared on the TV screen, and she rested her elbows on the table, clasping her head with her hands. Every criminal eye in the room was staring at her right now. Now they knew, and not only that, but her family's good name was being blackened by her being in this place! She couldn't take it. The enormity of it all overwhelmed her. Her stomach burned painfully and she doubled over, collapsing to the floor and vomited.

* * *

When Mark and Steve came back inside, Amanda was already up in the kitchen, fixing coffee and trying to get breakfast started. "Oh, good morning, guys." She smiled.

"Morning, Amanda." Steve sighed and sat down at the dining table. "Where's Kat?"

"I think you should let her sleep." Amanda said. "She had a rough night. On top of everything else, she had a touch of indigestion from eating chocolate again."

"Mmm." Steve agreed, nodding his head. Annie happily came to his side and nudged his hand, begging for a pat. He sighed and rubbed the top of her head.

"She doesn't have to go to school today if she's not up to it." Mark stated. "Here, honey, I'll give you a hand." And he tied on his blue cooking apron to assist Amanda with breakfast.

"Oh, no you don't." She shook her head. "You're both not even dressed. You guys go get freshened up. I can handle this. Now go on." Steve was embarrassed as he realized that he was in his sleeping clothes, plus all barefoot. "You look like you could use a shower: a nice, hot shower." Amanda smiled.

"I think I just might do that." Steve managed to grin.

"I called Katherine's teacher and told her she won't be coming in today because of a family emergency." Mark said at the breakfast table.

"That's fine." Steve grunted, staring down at the food before him. He and Mark were both dressed now, and ready to take on the difficult day in front of them.

"Hey." Amanda nudged him in the shoulder and pointed down to his plate like a mother. "Eat!"

"Yes, ma'am." Steve grinned and once he took the first bite, realized just how famished he actually was. By the time the meal was over, his plate was licked clean. "Thanks, Amanda. I needed that."

"Anything for you guys." She smiled. Just then, Katherine walked into the dining room, still in her pajamas. "Good morning." Amanda said cheerfully.

"Hi," Katherine mumbled with her arms crossed. She sat down in the chair Steve had been sitting in.

"Good morning, Sweetie." Mark greeted with a smile. "Did you sleep at all?"

"Yep." Katherine replied. She looked so glum. She pet Annie.

"If eating chocolate makes you feel so miserable, why do you eat it?" Steve half-teased, half dryly asked Kat. She made a face.

" _Because."_ She retorted. "I like it. I _need_ it." Steve raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes.

"Honey, I already talked to your teacher and she said that you don't have to come to class today." Mark said.

"Oh, thanks!" Katherine sighed with relief, resting back on the chair. "I couldn't do that today."

"She could hang out at the hospital with us today." Amanda said. "What do you say?"

"Thanks, but I'd rather stay here today, and try to get some things done." Katherine said. Steve sighed, feeling just awful and walked over to her. He touched her shoulder.

"Hey? We're gonna do all we can. And as soon as I can get things arranged, you can come down and see her." Steve said.

"Do you know when that will be?" Katherine asked.

"Nope, I don't. But I'll try to work it out where it'll be very soon."

"Thank you." Katherine said quietly.

"Ready, Dad?" Steve turned his head toward Mark.

"Yes. Let's go." Mark replied, rising from his seat. "Do either of you want us to give a message to Stacy for you?"

"Yes! Tell her I miss her." Katherine nodded.

"And that we can't wait to have her back." Amanda added. "And we hope it will be soon."

"We will. Bye, girls."

* * *

The guards in the dining hall hadn't even bothered about Stacy. Once she had emptied her stomach, she just sat huddled on the floor, covering the top of her head with her hands, hoping to shield her face from the inmates who'd seen that face on the screen, then in their presence! She could hear lots of mingled conversations throughout the large room, and she heard not only her own named mentioned several times, but also Mark's and Steve's...a lot, especially Steve's! Oh, breakfast couldn't be over with soon enough for Stacy Sloan!

* * *

As Steve and Mark pulled into the Loomis's curb, they saw to their aggravation that the driveway was swarming with news reporters. "Aw, great!" Steve growled. "Just what we need."

"We don't have to talk to them." Mark said, trying to offer some consolation. "Come on, let's go." As they stepped out of the car, cameras, people, and microphones were shoved into their faces and they were being asked several questions all at once.

"Detective Sloan? Is Mrs. Loomis going to press charges against your daughter? How does it feel, knowing your daughter is a suspect?" Steve glowered with anger but Mark spoke up for him.

"Folks? Folks! Can you please back off?" He asked, holding up his hands.

"Dr. Sloan, you have any remarks about the matter?"

"Right now all I can say is that this is a homicide investigation and we don't really have time to make public appearances." Mark said calmly. Steve just glared and angrily made his way through the crowd to the front door.

"Dr. Sloan? How do _you_ feel about your granddaughter being in jail?"

"It's painful." Mark said sadly. "But this case isn't over, and we're gonna do our best to get to the bottom of it." Then he inched his way to the inside of the house and shut the door.

"Busybodies." Steve glowered. "Why do they always have stick their noses into other people's business?"

"Easy, son." Mark said calmly. "I know it's a nuisance…"

"...and a hindrance." Steve finished. Detective Cheryl Banks appeared.

"What took you so long, Sloan?" She teased. Steve sighed and glared.

"Look, I'm not in a good mood right now, Cheryl." He growled. "So, just cut out the funny business and show us what we want to see." Cheryl pursed her lips.

"All right, Steve. Okay. I figured you'd be here soon. I take it you want to look at the study first?" Steve nodded as they walked in that direction.

"Cheryl? Did you see Stacy this morning?" Mark asked.

"No, I haven't. I came here first thing after clocking in. Have you seen her this morning?"

"Not yet." Steve shook his head.

"Cheryl, how was she when you left last night?" Mark asked again. Cheryl sighed.

"She was scared." She stated. "And very sad."

"Small wonder, huh?" Steve huffed. They entered the study.

"So, this is where it happened." Mark sighed.

"Yep." Cheryl nodded and made her way towards the desk. "Okay, now Loomis was found right here, lying on the floor, on his side. As you can see, there are blood stains on the carpet where he was lying, but also on the desk and the chair. Our guess is that he looked up to see the killer with the knife, he gets stabbed, fell forward on the desk, leaning on the arm of the chair as he lost balance, and then collapsed to the floor." Steve nodded.

"Did you find the desk in any disarray when you arrived?" Mark asked.

"No." Cheryl shook her head. "Surprisingly, it wasn't messed up at all."

"So, Loomis must have been clutching his chest when he leaned on the desk, otherwise he would've grasped for the first thing he could get his hands on, and then there would've been papers scattered on the floor." Mark remarked.

"That's what I would think, yes." Cheryl nodded.

"Makes sense." Steve added. "Any idea what he was working on when it happened?"

"Well, it appears as if he was going over some account reports. Turns out he had four separate bank accounts, each with a nice little nest egg." Steve raised his eyebrows.

"Interesting," he said in a very uninterested tone.

"That explains how he was able to afford this house." Mark stated. "Has he, uh, received any phone calls this morning?"

"No." Cheryl shook her head.

"What are you doing here?" A heavy voice behind them inquired. They turned and saw Mrs. Loomis leaning against the doorway. She was in her bathrobe, hadn't put on her makeup yet this morning, her hair was disheveled, and she looked drained.

Cheryl pulled out her badge. "Mrs. Loomis. I'm Detective Banks. You remember? We met last night."

"And who are you?" She stared at the two men.

"Mrs. Loomis, I'm Lt. Steve Sloan, of the LAPD, homicide." Steve said dryly.

"And I'm Dr. Mark Sloan from Community General Hospital, and medical consultant to the police department." Mark spoke softly.

"What do you want?" Mrs. Loomis asked in a fatigued voice.

"We're investigating your husband's death." Steve answered.

"What is there to investigate?" The older woman remarked flatly. "He's dead, and you have the killer." Steve's eyes narrowed when she said that.

"Look, Mrs. Loomis," Mark said gently, and walked over to her, "we're sorry about your husband, and know this isn't easy for you. But we want to make sure we find out everything we should know in regards to what happened to him." Steve was again blown away at how calm and gracious his father could be to someone who was most likely going to press charges against his daughter.

"Could you please pick another time?" Mrs. Loomis begged. "I've had a very distressing night and didn't sleep well at all."

"Certainly, we understand."

"Sorry to bother you, ma'am, but I'm afraid I have to ask you where you were at approximately six-thirty last night." Steve declared. Mark frowned at Steve and started to shake his head.

"I came home from a meeting with Horace's attorney." The woman sighed heavily. "I walked in the door, went to my husband's study, and that's...that's when I found _your_ daughter, bending over him, with a knife in his body!" Her teeth chattered.

"And I'm sure he can vouch for you."

"Yes, and so can the others in his law firm. That's where we'd come from when I found my husband."

"What's the name of this attorney?"

"Scott Beady."

"All right, thanks." Steve sighed. "We'll leave you alone for now. But we may have to ask more questions later."

"Ma'am, if you need anything, or just want to talk, here's my card." Mark stated, handing it to her. She stared down at it glumly, then slowly took it.

"Now would you please leave my house?" She begged again.

"Sure." Mark said, and pulled Steve along with him. Cheryl followed and they were almost out the front door when Mrs. Loomis called after them.

"Lt. Sloan?" She asked.

"Yes, ma'am?" Steve responded curiously.

"I'm a very lonely woman now. My life has become a nightmare and a tragedy, over night! And it's with very small thanks to that two-faced daughter of yours! She's taken my husband away from me, in more ways than one! And I'm not going to sit by and watch her get away with her lies and manipulating. I _will_ press charges." Steve squared his jaw and his shoulders.

"You can say what you want, but..." He started to vent, but Cheryl nudged his shoulder.

"We'll be in touch, Mrs. Loomis." She muttered. "Come on, partner." She pulled Steve away, which wasn't easy. He was shaking his head in anger.

"I know you're upset, Mrs. Loomis." Mark shook his head. "But I know our Stacy, and I can tell you without reserve that she didn't kill your husband. If you want to talk, please call me. I'm available." And he walked out of the house. Mrs. Loomis just watched, wide-eyed. A lump came to her throat and as she glanced down at Mark's business card, tears came to her eyes.

"Didn't get very far." Steve groaned as he stood against his car.

"Let's give her a little more time, Steve." Mark declared calmly. "She's had a rough night."

"Yeah," Steve remarked skeptically. "So has Stacy. Cheryl, can you look into the Loomis's background? I want to know everything about them, from where they had their last date to what they eat for breakfast!"

"I'll see what turns up." Cheryl grinned, then got into her car. Steve and Mark got into Steve's car, ready to go visit Stacy.

"You think Mrs. Loomis could've murdered her husband?" Mark asked curiously.

"I don't think she'd find it too difficult to pull off." Steve replied curtly.

"But how could she possibly get a hold of a knife, with Stacy's fingerprints on it?" Mark furrowed his brows. Steve huffed.

"Good question. I don't know. Maybe she paid somebody off. It's not like she couldn't afford it!"

"That's for sure." Mark nodded. "But it's not like she was the only one who had motive."

"And it's not likely that she was the only one who would be suspected either." Steve sighed. "Unfortunately, we don't have anything to tie any of them to the murder."

"No...except Stacy." Mark said quietly."Look, I know you're frustrated, and scared, and so am I. But we've got to keep our minds clear."

"My mind is perfectly clear, Dad." Steve said.

"It's just...something she said that's got me curious," Mark explained.

"Like what?" Steve asked dryly.

"What she said about Stacy taking her husband away in more ways than one." Mark shook his head.

"Like you said, she's an emotional wreck." Steve muttered, as if his statement satisfactorily ended the conversation.

"Still, I'd like to try to talk to her, Steve, when she's up to it." Mark persisted. Steve stared at him incredulously and sighed heavily.

"Go ahead and try if you want," he said in exasperation, "but I wouldn't press my luck. But, maybe you'll have a better chance with her than I did."

"That's what I'm hoping for." Mark nodded. "And, son, you should get some rest. You didn't get any sleep."

"I will... _later._ I just can't right now." Steve protested, and turned on the engine. Mark leaned back in his seat and sighed.

* * *

"Steve!" Sgt. Barnes ran to him as he and Mark entered the police station.

"Drew, what is it?" Steve asked concerned. He had no clue why his partner was acting so urgently.

"Steve, I wanted to talk to you last night, but you were gone by the time I could."

"Is Stacy okay?" Steve sputtered.

"She's fine, Steve." Barnes said reassuringly. "Well, okay as can be expected in this place, I guess."

"Is she all right?" Mark asked.

Barnes continued."I think so. Anyway, last night, Steve, she wanted me to tell you that she misses you, and loves you. And she also wanted me to tell you that she knows this isn't your fault." Steve was speechless. He didn't know how to respond.

"Can we see her?" Mark asked.

While the other prisoners had morning leisure time, Stacy lay as comfortable as she could possibly get on the cot and shut her eyes. She was very tired. Just when she was almost sound asleep, a gruff voice spoke to her through her cell bars. "Miss Sloan? Miss Sloan!" Stacy opened her eyes and looked up, it was Corporal Jeffers.

"W-what? Yes?" She asked nervously.

"You have a couple visitors. Come with me." Stacy's heart lept and she jumped to her feet.

Inside the interrogation room, Stacy stood by the window, looking outside, scanning the parking lot and hoping to spot her dad's or grandpa's car. The door opened behind her and she heard footsteps enter. She gasped with giddiness and turned her head. There they were, Steve and Mark standing next to each other! Stacy sighed heavily and a lump jumped in her throat at the sight of them. "Morning, Stacy!" Mark greeted warmly. At the sound of his cheerful voice and friendly smiled that she loved so much, tears just poured out of her eyes and she ran to her grandpa. He clasped her in a tight hug. "Aw, we missed you last night."

"I-I missed you too." Stacy cried in a muffled voice, nodding her head in his shoulder. Steve stood by, looking on. He bit his lip, not sure how to begin. He'd rather be beaten by a thug than say what he was going to have to say. He gulped and touched Stacy's shoulder.

"It's...good to see you, hon." He said lowly. Stacy peeked her face up from Mark's shirt and smiled sadly.

"It's _soo_ good to see you too!" She cried. Mark handed her his handkerchief and she wiped her eyes with it. "Thanks. So, how did it go last night?"

"Not the way we planned." Steve muttered.

"How have you been holding up?" Mark asked as they walked toward the table together with his arm around his granddaughter's shoulder. Stacy shrugged.

"Mph. You guys said you'd come, so that helped to keep me going." She sighed.

"We heard you were in the infirmary this morning. Are you all right, honey?"

"I did throw up in the mess hall this morning." Stacy muttered. "The news came on about the murder and...it was just too much. Then the others started talking about you guys! Just...a lot on my mind." Mark nodded and rubbed her shoulder. She sat down at the table and he took the chair on the end. Steve couldn't bring himself to and stood restlessly.

"Aw, honey," Mark said with sympathy, shaking his head, "you've been up all night."

"Well, what did you expect?" Stacy sighed with a hint of aggravation. "I'm sorry." She shook her head. "How...how's Kat? I miss her."

"She's not happy." Mark shook his head. "She wants you back home." Stacy chuckled.

"How are they treating you?" Steve asked.

"Fair, I guess. As fair as can be for a prisoner, I suppose."

"Sweetheart, I know you've had a rough time, and I don't like this any more than you do," Steve began. "But, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we'll know what to do."

"Mmm-hmm." Stacy nodded.

"I need you to take me through everything you did last night, exactly as it happened." Steve said firmly, still not believing that this was happening. Stacy poured out the story word for word what she told her other interrogators and answered her dad's professional questions. It was very awkward, yet she felt safer telling this to him than anyone else in the department, especially with Mark in the room. "Okay, but I have to ask you something else." Steve gulped.

His tone made Stacy nervous, and her stomach did flip-flops.

"Y-yes?" She asked shakily.

" _Did_ you at any time touch the knife, the murder weapon?" Steve inquired firmly.

"No!" Stacy shook her head. "I didn't! I didn't touch it at all, Dad! I promise I didn't!" Steve sighed heavily and Mark looked on sadly. Stacy thought this would relax her dad's manner, but his body language only stiffened. "What is it?" She blurted out. "You're really spooking me!"

"Stacy, your fingerprints are all over it." Steve said sadly, anger swirling inside his brain. Stacy's eyes widened with fear and she gasped.

"B...but that...I...I didn..." She stammered between breaths. Mark leaned forward and touched her arm. "How can that be?!" Stacy exclaimed, rising to her feet. "I didn't touch the knife! I didn't!" She shook her head and raised her hand to her mouth, panic on her face. Mark tried to calm her down.

"Stacy, try to sit back down." He said softly. Stacy shook her head and her lips trembled. She clasped her face.

"You're telling me the truth, right?" Steve asked as gently as possible, but her face grew more sad and bewildered.

"YES!" She nodded. "I promise you, Dad. I didn't touch that knife! I didn't!" She gulped and covered her face with her hands, then dropped back down in her seat. "How could this happen?" She whimpered. Steve felt horrible. It reminded him a little bit of when his girls were little and needed shots or something unpleasant to help them get better, but hurt and made them cry. He always told them it would help them get well, but they always said back to him, "But it hurts!" Those memories brought back a familiar feeling of helplessness, only much heavier and much more painful this time. Mark frowned at how sad his son looked and wished he could do something to change things. Steve leaned forward on the table and patted Stacy's arm.

"It's all right, Stace. It's okay, I believe you." He said grimly. She lifted her eyes up and met his. She bit her lip.

"Y-you do?" She asked hopefully between pants.

"Yes, I do." Steve nodded. "It's not going to be easy to prove, but I'm going to find the real killer." Stacy still breathed shakily but she gazed thoughtfully at her dad and dear grandpa and managed a big but sad smile.

"In the meantime, honey, you need to do your best to be brave and try to take care of yourself." Mark stated, touching her face. Stacy sadly returned his gaze.

"That's not gonna be easy," She said doubtfully. "But...I'll try. You know, I half wish that I was sick at Community General instead of here. That place is familiar, and part of our lives. At least there, I'd know what was supposed to be done, and you'd be there, Grandpa, to take care of me." Mark smiled sadly.

"The cops here are good people, Stace." Steve remarked, though he couldn't help feeling a bit betrayed by his partners. He knew that they were supposed to do their job, and they were dependable about that, but it still hurt. "This isn't personal. They're doing what they're supposed to, the same kind of things that _I_ do every day. No, it's not fun. But it's their responsibility. You'll probably hate my job after this is all over, but this is what I do."

"Dad," Stacy sighed, shaking her head. "I'm 22, and I realize that. You probably don't remember, but we've been there on a few cases where we saw how hard it was for you to do what was right. But you still did it! I don't like being in this place, being looked on as a perpetrator. I can't stand it, especially now that all the other female prisoners know there's a Sloan in here. But I really do understand: it's not your fault, Dad."

Steve drew in a breath, not sure what to say or do next. He gulped, fighting very hard to hold back the tears that were threatening to pour out. He was blown away. He was sure by now that his daughters would hate him and all he'd been standing for and representing all these years. But they weren't! They were still proud of him! Steve was deeply moved and kept kicking himself for having to be so professional and cold while his family responded to him with love and respect. He strongly felt that he didn't deserve them. "Thanks, honey." He cleared his throat. "I appreciate that."

"W...when...do you think...I...I guess I won't be leaving here very soon, will I?" Stacy asked glumly, hoping she was wrong.

"Hopefully it'll be only a few days, Stacy. 'Til the preliminary hearing." Steve responded.

"Do you think I can go home then?"

"If we can get bail, then yes, you should be able to." Steve nodded. Stacy blew out a breath of relief and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her forehead.

"Do you think I'll be able to get bail, Grandpa?"

"I hope so, hon." Mark said.

"In the meantime, we need your help, Stacy in trying to figure out who killed Loomis." Steve stated.

" _My_ help?" Stacy repeated with raised eyebrows. "Not sure how much I can do, but I'll do my best, Dad."

"Stacy, who all was around and heard Loomis threaten to fire you?" Mark inquired. Stacy shook her head.

"Are you kidding? _Everybody."_

"Okay, let me rephrase that. Who was the closest one nearby to hear every word? And who did you talk with afterwords?"

"Okay. Well, Mavis Anders, one the editors was standing right there. Henry Stilton was at his desk, directly across from mine, and heard everything. Mr. Loomis left and Henry made some smart remark and I left. Mavis talked to me for a while, then I got back to work. I gave my report to Georgina Walters, Loomis's secretary. Then I had lunch with Bob and Becky. The rest of the day we just did our work then clocked out." Stacy explained.

"I think I'll have a talk with them." Steve said after shuffling his notepad back into his jacket. "Hon, we're gonna need all the files and notes of the reports that you were currently working on."

"Now, we have no idea why he demanded the one that he did," Mark added, "but maybe it'll help us figure out why he got so angry. Could be connected to why he was murdered."

"Well, you know where they are." Stacy remarked. "The originals are at the paper, in my desk and on my computer. And I have copies on my laptop at home."

"Thanks, hon." Steve nodded. "We'll look into it. Uh, excuse me for a few minutes, will you?" And he walked toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Stacy asked with an edge of worry.

"Just need to to have a few words with my partners, that's all." Steve replied with furrowed brows.

"Will you be back?" Stacy asked.

"Of course I will."

"Okay." Stacy replied nervously. Mark gazed curiously at her.

"I shouldn't be long." Steve said, then left the room. Mark gripped Stacy's arm.

"Stacy, what's wrong?" Mark asked. "You sounded as if you were afraid he wasn't coming back." Stacy rubbed her face.

"He left last night, Grandpa." She said. "I didn't even get to see him. The last I saw of him last night was when...when..."

"You were arrested." Mark finished solemnly.

"Yes. I...I guess I'm just really on edge right now."

"That's completely understandable, dear." Mark nodded.

"Grandpa? Do you remember Marsha Harring? Do you remember the case that involved her?"

"Uh, yes. Yes, I do. Why? Have you run into her in here?" Mark asked curiously.

"More than that. She's my cell mate!" Stacy exclaimed wide-eyed. Mark raised his eyebrows.

"Whoa." He gaped. "Good gracious. What's she like?"

"She's _not_ nice, that's for sure." Stacy muttered, wrapping her arms around herself. "She's bitter about you and Dad busting her."

"Is she taking it out on you?"

"Yes." Stacy sighed, hanging her head. Mark tenderly touched her face.

"Oh, honey. I'm sorry." He shook his head. "I wish we could get you out of here faster. I understand what it's like to be enclosed in prison with a leering, taunting, crooked shadow."

"You sure do." Stacy nodded, remembering Mark's horrible time on Death Row and how Malcolm Trainor had relentlessly, emotionally tortured him. " _How_ did you deal with that, Grandpa? How did you endure that torture, knowing every day when you woke up in prison that you'd have to deal with it any time he was around?" Mark sighed heavily.

"I remembered the Bible verses of Jesus promising to never leave us." he said. "But, every moment I prayed and hoped that it would be my last day in that place, that I'd be free. Though I knew it wasn't going to happen that fast. Unfortunately, that was months later. I knew that Steve was out there working overtime to get me out. That helped keep me going, knowing that I was innocent, hoping that it'd come out, and praying that Steve would find it soon and be able to prove it." Stacy had listened intently.

"I'm so glad _that's_ over!" She blurted out.

"So am I." Mark agreed wholeheartedly.

"But, Grandpa, I...I don't want to be in here for months!" Stacy cried. "I want to go home!"

"I know, Sweetie. We don't want that to happen either. And we're gonna work hard to see that it doesn't."

"I know, and I appreciate that." Stacy answered. "I just hope it's soon."

"Me too, Stace." Mark smiled warmly.

* * *

"Hey, you." Cheryl caught Steve in the hallway on his way to see Captain Newman. "Mind if I go with you?" She asked. Steve sighed.

"I don't care what you do." He huffed. Cheryl sighed heavily and trotted at his side. Steve didn't respond but just kept walking. They both entered the captain's office. Masters, Newman, and Jeffers were there. Cheryl closed the door behind them.

"Sloan, I see you made it back." Chief Masters stated.

"I said I _would."_ Steve spat.

"So, I assume that Detective Banks informed you about the developments regarding the murder weapon?" Captain Newman asked. Steve stared at the floor.

"I know about it, yes." He nodded.

"Sloan, we're all here because we know how difficult this is for you," Newman started.

"You think you do." Steve muttered.

" _And,_ to remind you to conduct yourself the same as in any other case. You are the homicide detective after all, but I'm strongly tempted to pull you off this one, I don't think you're in shape to handle it..."

"I _can_ handle it, sir." Steve snarled. "I know what I'm doing." He could feel the blood in his veins heating up. The captain and the chief both studied him intently, scouring every inch of that all too familiar icy glare that Steve could so easily etch when he was ready to play hard ball, or adamantly felt that something or someone was terribly out of line.

"You know, you take that attitude with you as you dive into this and you're gonna really botch something...or someone." Chief Masters warned. Steve raised his head and squared his shoulders.

"I won't let that happen, sir." Steve declared confidently. "Not with my father on my tail like a tenacious terrier. Believe me, he'll be there to see that I don't step out of line." He tried to sound convincing, but everyone knew Steve's short fuse when it came to keeping his loved ones safe, or when he refused to put up with any kind of guff.

"Sloan, I'm warning you now," Newman said in a strongly determined voice, "you know that I really should order you to step away from this..." Steve nodded as Newman continued, "however, your record speaks for itself and though I feel that your dad will appear far-fetched in his own theories about this, I trust his judgement."

Steve skeptically raised his eyebrows in surprise. He and his superiors hadn't always seen eye to eye on the probable causes in solving cases, especially when Mark was involved. "Well, I appreciate that." Steve said dryly. He still didn't think the captain was gonna let him off that easy.

"This is a risky decision, seeing that it is so closely connected to you." Newman continued. "I'm warning, you, Sloan," he narrowed his eyes, "do _NOT_ let your personal feelings get in the way of this! Do you understand? If you're daughter is innocent, then it'll become clear sooner or later."

 _I'd rather it be sooner,_ Steve thought to himself.

" _But,_ if you're to solve this case, I expect you to conduct yourself professionally and dispassionately. You are to treat this case the same as any other. And, I don't want to hear _any_ reports on you regarding acts of rashness or misconduct! Absolutely none! That's an _order_ , Sloan. You step out of line, and you're off this case as sure as you're standing here. Do I make myself clear, Sloan?" He glowered seriously at Steve who returned the stare-down with an equally contemptible gaze.

"Yes, sir." Steve answered with a sigh. Newman was asking a lot, and he knew it. Steve knew in his heart that Stacy didn't commit this vicious crime, but it seemed to him that the only way they could prove it would be for him to press hard in searching for clues, and lean hard in a not so friendly manner on anyone who knew but may withhold the information they needed to expose the real murderer. He hated for anyone he cared about to be in jail, and after the miscarriage of justice in Mark's case, Steve wasn't quite as trusting of the system as he once had been. As long as he himself was on the job, he felt confident. Steve didn't care what it took: he, Mark, and their family were going to clear Stacy's name! Period! He'd been almost too late to do that for Mark when he was on Death Row, but that hadn't stopped Steve one bit from trying. And he certainly wasn't going to back down now either.

"I realize that you are in charge of the homicide side of this; but, since he is the arresting officer, you're to keep Corporal Jeffers informed of your findings." Newman commanded. Steve pursed his lips.

"Right." He muttered.

"All right then. Get out of here." Newman finished. Steve immediately exited the office, with Cheryl and Jeffers in tow. The corporal gripped Steve's forearm.

"Sloan?" He asked.

"What is it?" Steve turned to face him.

"I'm gonna need to see all the files, notes, and whatever else there is of the reports Stacy was currently working on. Maybe it'll give us a lead to why he decided to get rid of her and why else she might've killed him." Jeffers had let it slip out before he realized what he just did! But it was too late. Steve's face was icily clouded over and turned crimson.

"Just tell me what you need to see and I'll make sure you get it!" Steve growled.

"Hey, control yourself." Cheryl said firmly, then whispered, " _you're not helping Stacy if you lose it!"_ Steve bit his lip hard and glowered at Jeffers.

"Sorry, Sloan." He said nervously. "I didn't mean it like that. It just slipped out."

"I'll get you those papers." Steve snarled with clenched teeth.

"Come on." Cheryl spoke up again.

Steve sighed. "I'll get the papers to you when I can. But not 'til I've seen them." Jeffers nodded and walked away. Steve bit his lip again and started storming down the hall. His face was drawn with provoked tenacity. Cheryl blocked his way. "Do you mind?" Steve growled with his hands on his hips.

"Hey, look." Cheryl said calmly. "Steve, I know you're sore right now. And I know darn well that you'd much rather be handling this case on your own."

"You've got that right."

"But just listen to me!" Cheryl demanded, looking him square in the eyes. "You want to clear your daughter, don't you?"

"You're darn right I do." Steve huffed.

"Then you've got to keep yourself in check, and not pursue every individual that says something you don't like. It looks very open shut right now. _Steve..._ I'll help you with this, but you've got to give me a chance and trust me. Okay?"

"I don't have much choice, do I?" Steve said dryly. Cheryl narrowed her eyes at him and pulled him aside.

"Hey, off the record," she whispered, "I don't believe Stacy did this either. And we've all got to work together if we're gonna prove it. But, you first of all really need to calm down. Get me? If you cross the line, I'll take you out myself!" Steve stared with his mouth open. He was trying to think of some sort of argument or excuse for his behavior, but came up empty. He couldn't help forming a small smile at his stubborn, efficient partner.

"You know, I believe you would." He said quietly.

"Yeah, well, just don't go blowing a fuse out on the field, see?" She squinted, her hands on her hips.

"Between you and my dad, how am I even gonna get to play cops and robbers?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "Why don't you guys just tie me to a chair?" Cheryl smacked his arm.

"Because we need the best." She smirked. "But even the best need to be restrained sometimes." And with that, she walked down the hall. Steve rolled his eyes, cleared his throat and followed her.

* * *

Mark had taken Stacy's hands in his and they'd prayed together that God would guide him and Steve, and that she would be cleared soon. She'd asked him how things were at home, and he'd filled her in. He'd also given her the message from Amanda and Kat, and she gave him greetings to return to them. Steve opened the door and stepped in. "Look, uh," he sighed, scratching his head, "I really hate to say this, but it's time for us to go, Dad." Stacy's face fell and her eyes threatened to well up in tears. Steve gazed at her sympathetically, feeling horrible for having to leave her behind, and walked over to her. He touched her shoulder. Mark had wrapped his arm around her.

"T-tell Kat, and Amanda, and J-Jessie I miss them." She gulped.

"We will." Steve said.

"We'll be back, Stacy." Mark said tenderly. "Keep praying. And remember we love you." Stacy looked up at him and nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. Mark hugged her warmly. She didn't want to let go.

"Hey, we're gonna beat this, hon." Steve spoke up. "The truth will come out. And we're going to try our hardest to see that it's soon." Stacy bit her lip. Steve leaned his face down closer to hers. "Hey, I'll come back and see you, okay?" He asked gently. She nodded and whimpered. He stroked her hair and patted her shoulder. "We'll see you, hon." Both men slowly tore themselves away. Mark didn't even bother trying to coax her into smiling. She was too broken up.

"It'll be all right, Stacy." He said tenderly. Then they both mournfully closed the door behind them. Stacy burst out in sobs. She couldn't help it. She ached for their next visit already, and for all the dear faces at home and at the hospital that she'd grown to love. When would she see them again? When would she get out of here? Could they possibly prove her innocence? When would she get to see her sister, Kat, and good friends, Amanda and Jessie again? And would she ever get a friendly kiss from Annie again?

Steve stared at the floor outside the interrogation room and Mark shook his head. This was hard for all them, and hearing Stacy's sobs on the other side of the door didn't help. Steve quickly brushed at his eyes, then cleared his throat. "Let's go, Dad. We have work to do: yesterday!" He declared with determination. Mark lifted his head erect and quickly followed his son.

* * *

When Stacy was put back in her cell, Marsha Harring was back in there. Stacy ignored her and curled into a ball on the bed as close to the wall as she could get. Marsha clucked with her tongue and shook her head. "Well, look who's back." She remarked. "I was beginning to think that you'd escaped. Where have you been?" Stacy didn't answer or face the woman. "Honestly, how rude." Marsha shook her head. "Didn't your perfect little family teach you better manners than that?" Stacy felt her face get hot. She clenched her teeth. Marsha stared in mock sympathy. "Why, you're crying." She taunted. "What's the matter? Daddy dear didn't come to see you?" Stacy covered her face with her hands and breathed heavily. She tried to block out Marsha's voice.

"I don't want to talk to _you."_ Stacy said unhappily. "Why don't you mind your own business?"

"You're a fine one to talk, considering that you're a _reporter,_ poking her nose in other people's business." Marsha retorted.

"It's my job." Stacy muttered. "Leave me alone." She flipped on the radio to cut off any further conversation between them. _I don't belong here._ Stacy thought miserably. _I don't belong in here! I want out._ It was at that moment that she felt extremely sleepy from the draining tension of the night before and this morning, plus hardly any winks of sleep. She tried to focus on her fatigue instead of who was relentlessly trying to toy with her mind. Unfortunately for Stacy, this was what her life was going to be like in jail until she was released… _if_ she was released at all, that is!

* * *

 **I would like to hear your thoughts. Reviews would be good. But like I said, this is my first big DM fanfic, so please don't be too harsh. If it's not great right now, who knows? Maybe the story will get better as it goes along.**


	9. Chapter 9 Innocent 'Til Proven Guilty

"Kat, I'm heading to the hospital." Mark said on his cell phone. "Unless you need me to come home."

"No, that's okay, Grandpa." Kat responded.

"You okay?" Mark asked.

"Yes. I'm fine." Kat answered with a sigh.

"All right. But call me if you need anything." Mark shrugged. Steve dropped him off at Community General, then left to do some adamant interrogation. Mark was slipping into his white lab coat when Amanda popped up behind him.

"Mark." She sighed. He turned to face her.

"Hi, Amanda." He replied.

"How are you guys since I left?" Amanda asked.

"Okay." Mark sighed. "How was Kat when you left?"

"Quiet." Amanda said. "But she's holding her own. Did you guys see Stacy yet?"

"Yeah."

"How is she, Mark?" Amanda asked tenderly.

"Scared." Mark replied, wide-eyed. "She had a rough night."

"Mmm-hmm." Amanda nodded. "Mark, if there's anything else I can do..."

"Thanks, honey." Mark patted her shoulder. "Right now your friendship and support is the best medicine for us."

"Not to mention prayers."

"H mph. Yeah!" Mark smiled. "Did you run an autopsy on Horace Loomis?"

"Yep." Amanda said. "That's why I came to see you. I've got the report."

"Well?" Mark looked at her expectantly. Amanda's face fell.

"No drugs in his system, no other injuries."

"Nothing?" Mark asked dismally.

"Nothing." Amanda shook her head. "He was clearly killed by a direct stab wound to the heart." Mark's shoulders sagged.

"This is _not_ helping Stacy." He shook his head.

"I know," Amanda said sympathetically. "How's Steve doing?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, Amanda, I'm more worried about _him_ than I am about the girls! I just know he's going to drive himself to a frazzle, probably to the point of exhaustion. And you know he won't listen to me."

"Don't I know it!" Amanda exclaimed. "But if it was him in there, you'd be doing the same thing."

"Oh, in a heartbeat. It's not his drive that's bothering me. I've grown used to that. It's his anger. I'm afraid he might get himself in trouble at the station, trying to prove Stacy's innocence."

"Well," Amanda gave a small smile, "it wouldn't be the first time. And he's still a member there."

"That's true. By the way, how are CJ and Dion?"

"Oh, they're both fine. Had a wonderful time last night, and I'm gonna see them later."

"Good. Well, I'd better get to my rounds. Thanks for everything, honey." Mark smiled, hugging his almost-daughter-like friend.

"Sure." She smiled back.

"By the way, have you seen Jessie yet this morning?" Mark asked.

"Yeah, but he looks like he could use a break."

Mark went about his work, helping his patients. But of course, his mind was with his family members. He silently prayed with every passing second that Steve would find a loophole in the mystery, _something_ that would cause reasonable doubt in Stacy's alleged guilt. He found Jessie in the doctor's lounge close to lunch time. His young colleague was pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Jessie, I've hardly seen you this morning." Mark stated, coming up beside him.

"Yeah, well, it's been pretty busy around here." Jessie sighed and dropped down in a chair.

"Yeah, Delores just bombarded me with all this paperwork. She said it would be good for me, keep my mind off our troubles." Mark chuckled, grabbing a drink for himself.

"If it were only that easy." Jessie muttered, staring down at the floor. Mark sat beside him.

"You okay, Jess?" He asked intently. "You look like you didn't get much sleep."

"Well, to tell you the truth, I didn't." Jessie shook her head.

"Jess, I know you feel bad for us, and we appreciate it." Mark said sympathetically. "But you need to take care of yourself."

"I'm just…worried, Mark." Jessie rubbed his temples.

"I know, Jess. We all are." Then Mark's phone rang. "Dr. Mark Sloan."

"Dad, it's me." Steve said.

"Hey, son."

"I talked to Stacy's coworkers, the ones that she said had been around yesterday." Steve explained.

"Did you pick up any interesting information?" Mark asked hopefully.

"Not really," Steve muttered. "They all confirmed Stacy's story of the row that occurred yesterday, and they all expressed their thoughts that they don't believe she killed Loomis. But, they all claimed to have alibis, which I'm looking into right now."

"Nice to know we have their sympathy." Mark suggested.

"That could be a cover up." Steve corrected. "I _wish._ _Actually,_ there was one who wasn't very empathetic: Henry Stilton. He seemed more concerned with the full-blown news this murder is creating. _"_

"Any of them seem to have a motive for killing Loomis?"

"From what I've heard, _everybody_ could've at one time or another. Not many people liked him, particularly his secretary. But I guess right now none had as strong a motive as Stacy did, and they weren't found at his house. Although it appears that Mavis Anders the editor was the one employee who could withstand his intimidation."

"Maybe they were friends." Mark suggested.

"I doubt it. He wasn't the friends-on type. I want to talk to Mrs. Loomis again, but I don't think she's ready."

"I think you're right about that." Mark agreed. "Don't worry, son. I'm gonna try to do that in a few days."

"Mmm." Steve grunted. "We're running background checks on all the employees at the paper under Loomis."

"Good. Have you talked to Scott Beady yet?" Mark asked.

"Not yet. But don't worry, I will."

"What about Mrs. Loomis's attorney?"

"I'm looking into that too."

"Okay, Steve. You just keep doing your job. With God's help, we'll find who did it." Mark said encouragingly.

"I _know_ we will!" Steve huffed. "I'll talk to you later."

"All right." Mark sighed and hung up. Jessie looked up at him expectantly. "Sorry, Jessie. He hasn't found much yet." Jessie slumped in his chair.

"There's got to be something." Jessie rubbed his forehead.

"There _will_ be." Mark said quietly.

* * *

Steve spent a lot of time at the station, trying to dig up what info and possible dirt he could find on anyone else that may have had a strong motive for killing Loomis. He also tried getting a hold of Scott Beady, Loomis's personal attorney. But the lawyer hadn't returned his calls yet. Cheryl stopped by his desk with lunch. "Eat something, you're gonna need it." She huffed, sitting on his desk.

"Nah. I'm too busy." Steve shook his head. Cheryl glared.

"Hey, you wanna solve this case? Build your strength up." She grunted, taking a bite of her tuna sandwich, and dropping the take-out bag in his lap. He pursed his lips.

"Cheryl, I've got too much to do." Steve protested. Cheryl rolled her eyes, and pushed her own midday meal aside in exasperation, then stood up. She dug her hands into his lunch bag.

"What are you doing?" Steve muttered. Cheryl pulled out his hamburger, unwrapped it and held it up to Steve's mouth.

"You want to stay on this case, do it right." She said firmly. "Now you put down that black and white chicken scratch and eat every bite of this meal I picked up, before I take it to your face and force you to at gunpoint." Steve stared at her steely, and tried to stifle a laugh.

"You wouldn't dare." He teased. Cheryl raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, yeah? Don't press your luck." She said belligerently and held the food up to his mouth. "Now do I have to bring out the gun, or do I have to spoon feed you like your momma did when you were little?" She teased. Steve shoved her hands away and reluctantly complied.

"Oohh, I'm so scared, Banks. All right," he sighed, taking his sandwich. Cheryl smirked and returned to her own lunch. Just then, the phone rang and Steve quickly answered it. Cheryl rolled her eyes again. "Yeah, Sloan here." Steve spoke.

"Dad?" Kat asked on the other end.

"Kat? Yeah, it's me. What's up?" He sat up straight, being prepared to rush home if there was trouble.

"I'm trapped, that's what." Kat answered in annoyance.

"What are you talking about? Is everything okay?"

"Uhm, no. There's actually a man in a ski mask here, tearing the house to bits." Kat said sarcastically.

"What _is_ the matter?" Steve asked, not amused. "Don't do that to me."

"Okay. There's a mob of people with cameras and microphones crowding our walkway. I can't even get out the front door. And I'm _not_ gonna answer it."

"You're kidding." Steve sighed.

"No, I'm not. I was gonna go for a walk on the beach with Annie, but they saw me in the foyer, and I'm afraid they'll follow me down the back way." Kat explained. "And Annie won't stop barking at them."

"Okay. I'll get a couple officers down there to clear them out." Steve sighed again.

"Thank you!" Kat exclaimed. "Now I know what it feels like to have your home invaded."

"Yeah." Steve agreed. "Hey, you all right?"

"Sure." Kat said. "I'm okay. Just trying to make it through the day."

"All right. Well, you call me if you get anymore surprise visitors."

"You mean like Amanda and Jessie?" Kat teased.

"You know what I mean." Steve rolled his eyes. "Take care, hon. Bye. I love you."

"You too. Bye."

Steve hung up the phone and shook hie head. "I thought for sure you were gonna bolt out of that chair and speed out of this place." Cheryl grinned.

"What? And risk getting shot on sight? I don't think so." Steve teased back.

"You need to relax." Cheryl said a little more seriously.

"My daughter's being charged with first degree murder, Cheryl!" Steve growled, but she didn't read anger in his eyes: it was fear. "That's the death penalty, right there! I don't have time to relax. I couldn't help my dad when he was in that position, but I _will_ help Stacy! I'm _not_ gonna let it come for her to what it did for my father! Somewhere in here is a lead to the scum who did this, and it'll give me great pleasure to skunk him out into a pair of handcuffs." Steve poked his nose back into the papers he was shuffling. Cheryl touched his shoulder.

"Hey. We'll figure this out, okay?" She looked him square in the eyes. "You sound pretty upset with the person who did this."

"It's not so much _who_ he killed." Steve corrected her. "From all the testimonies, I'm surprised someone didn't do it sooner. But, I'm upset for the direction where he left the evidence pointing to. By the way, why _are_ you helping me so much on this one?" Steve asked curiously. Cheryl frowned.

"Cause that's what buddies do. I'm your friend, remember? You may be the best detective on the force, but that doesn't mean you can figure out everything on your own." Then she smiled wryly. "Besides, I'm _very_ interested in seeing what magic rabbit your dad manages to pull out on _this_ one!"

"If he can find a magic rabbit." Steve said skeptically.

"He usually does, doesn't he? You're such a cynic, Sloan." Cheryl teased. Steve raised his eyebrows.

"Ooo, you're a real stimulant, Banks." He retorted. Cheryl smiled smugly and took another proud bite of her tuna sandwich.

"And anyway, with the victim so unlamented, I'm super curious as to which hater fan of his _did_ kill him." Cheryl smiled.

"Don't we all." Steve agreed. "Being so despised, it's hard to figure out who decided to finally get rid of the tyrant."

* * *

The time in her cell was almost always the same: Stacy would try to go to sleep at night, or at least lose herself in her own thoughts, but Marsha was relentless and enjoyed making her miserable. She constantly blackballed the Sloan family, and took no mercy in telling Stacy that she was nothing more than a worthless killer. Stacy often tried to sleep in her cell during the other prisoners' leisure time, because it was the only minutes she could grab with peace and quiet, the only time when Marsha would leave her alone. But even then, it was hard to sleep, knowing that this wasn't a terrible dream, but so real. She'd often finally doze off, but it wouldn't be too long before her emotional antagonist would be returned to the cell. Gradually, Stacy stopped crying when her feelings were hurt because her tears only made Marsha gloat. So, she'd try hard to suppress them when she could feel them coming. _If this is anything close to what Grandpa had to go through, I'm surprised he's still of sound mind!_ She kept thinking to herself. Stacy would protest constantly and reel over and over again in her mind, "I didn't! I didn't kill him. I didn't do anything wrong!" But it didn't change the situation.

* * *

The day of the preliminary hearing arrived. Steve and Mark attended, with Amanda for moral support. Their minds were filled with a mixture of hope and dread. Chief Masters and Cheryl were also there. "The charge of murder in the first degree. How do you plead, counselor?" Judge Harrison asked.

"My client pleads not guilty, Your Honor." Brad Himmel, Stacy's defense attorney replied.

"This is absurd, You Honor." The prosecutor, Joe Taylor from across the room protested, rising to his feet."The facts are all here. We have enough evidence and more to persuade the court without a reasonable doubt, that Stacy Sloan, with malice aforethought, committed murder in the first degree of her employer, Horace Loomis! It's open shut, Your Honor. It's all here. We can convict her right here and now."

" _Why_ did it have to be _him?"_ Mark glared, whispering in annoyance to Steve.

"He probably had connections with Loomis." Steve muttered. Joe Taylor, the hard-nosed, impatient, but shrewd prosecuting attorney was who they were referring to.

"Wouldn't put it passed him." Amanda huffed under her breath.

"I object, Your Honor." Himmel spoke up. "The Constitution of the United States clearly says that a person accused of any crime has the right to stand trial before a jury, and I will not waver my client's rights." Stacy gulped, her stomach twisting in a knot. This was all so unreal.

"The prosecution recommends no bail, Your Honor." Taylor stated.

"Your Honor, I object. My client is the daughter of Lt. Detective Steve Sloan of the LAPD homicide division, and granddaughter of Doctor Mark Sloan, who as I'm sure you know, is the chief of internal medicine at Community General Hospital. Both gentlemen have outstanding, unblemished records of their service to this community. Out of respect for their reputation, I plead that you grant bail for this young lady." Stacy gazed uncomfortably up at the judge, who stared blankly in her direction.

"Bail is denied." The judge growled and slammed down his gavel. Amanda gulped hard. Mark and Steve both practically rose out of their seats. Stacy's heart raced. "Seeing that this is a personally intertwined case regarding the defendant and the police department, I move that the defendant remain in custody until this court goes to trial." Stacy felt as if she was going to throw up. Steve gritted his teeth in anger and clenched his fists. Amanda's face fell. Mark winced and shook his head. "Trial is set for June 26th. Court is adjourned." Judge Harrison bellowed dryly as his gavel pounded on the desk. It all felt like a huge, drowning tidal wave had washed over the Sloan family. Stacy gasped frightfully and frantically turned to her family behind her, her face full of fear.

"Dad!" She wailed pitifully. Steve gazed sadly at her and Mark touched her shoulder. "What am I gonna do?!" She pleaded. "I don't wanna go back to jail!"

"It'll be all right, honey." Steve said as calmly as he could. "You won't be in there long." This whole thing was killing him.

"Y-you don't know what it's like in there!" Stacy protested anxiously.

"Don't worry, Stacy. We'll figure this out, we'll get you back with us." Amanda said soothingly to her scared friend. "We'll take care of everything." She felt like she was reliving the moment years ago when she'd said the same words to poor Jessie, who had looked and sounded every bit as distressed as Stacy did right now.

"I'm sorry, Miss Sloan. I wish I could've done more." Himmel touched her shoulder, shaking his head, then walked away. The bailiff came and took her by the arm. Stacy panted in panic and trembled like a leaf.

"G-Grandpa..." She pleaded with tears.

"Try to be brave, honey." Mark said softly, trying to reassure her and patting her arm. "We'll get you back home." The bailiff started to lead her away, but she looked back pleadingly to the people she loved and respected so much, her face full or disappointment and fright. She knew it couldn't be helped, but they were letting her down right now.

"Don't let them take me away this time, Dad! Please!" Stacy cried out then buried her face in her hands as she was taken away. She'd been led away from him once, when she'd been pulled in for questioning, and at that time she hadn't resisted being apprehended. But this was different: she was going back to jail, to stay! She'd have to spend every night with that horrid Marsha, and her cruel antagonist tactics...that was the worst part. Stacy had tried to be brave since the night of the murder, but now she was very petrified. Steve was absolutely sick at heart, and he walked briskly from the courtroom. Mark stood by watching helplessly and painfully as his granddaughter was removed from sight. He gazed at the ceiling.

"Lord, please. We need Your help." He winced. Amanda rubbed his shoulder.

"We'll find the killer, Mark." She said softly. "We've got to!" Mark nodded. Chief Masters and Cheryl walked up to them.

"Sorry it has to be this way, Doctor Sloan." Cheryl said glumly. Amanda bit her lip.

"I know." Mark said sadly. "You're just doing your job. I just wish we had a new piece of evidence, _something."_ He shook his head.

"Maybe we do." Chief Masters chimed in. Amanda and Mark quickly gazed up at him expectantly. They couldn't deduce whether his statement was good news or bad news.

"What do you mean?" Amanda asked cautiously.

"It turns out that Mrs. Loomis was seriously ready to file for divorce when her husband was killed." Cheryl smiled. Mark and Amanda gaped with raised eyebrows.

"Why would she do that?" Amanda asked.

"Who in their right mind liked the guy?" Cheryl shrugged. "According to everyone, he was a tyrant. Maybe to her especially."

"But she appeared truly grief-stricken when we were at her house the day after the murder." Mark stated. "Yet, she did say something to me that's stuck in my mind. The funeral was two days ago. Maybe she could use someone to talk to right about now."

"You thinking of doing that, Mark?" Masters asked.

"Yes, I am. You know, people will often open up to doctors things they don't want anyone else to know about! Maybe there's something she'll feel like sharing with me." Mark smiled.

"Take my word for that!" Amanda rolled her eyes.

"Well, give it a try, Doctor." Masters shrugged. "If you learn anything possibly incriminating about her or her husband, let us know! I think right now she could be listed as a possible suspect, only on the speculation of motive, mind you."

"I don't mean to sound cold and heartless, but you have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that!" Mark breathed heavily in relief. "And Steve will be too."

"Yeah, how is he?" Cheryl asked. "You think _he's_ gonna be okay?"

"I honestly don't know." Mark said solemnly. "This is especially hard for him. I'd better go see if I can find him."

"Please know, Mark, that we'd like to see this case end the same way you do." Masters said fervently.

"Thanks." Mark sighed then went to check on his son, with Amanda at his heels. Steve was standing out in the hall, staring out the window into the parking lot. "Steve, you all right?" Mark asked, touching his shoulder.

"Mmm." Steve grunted. He was a tough, seasoned, brave cop and was struggling not to break down. It had killed him inside when he'd come out of a coma and found out that his dad was on Death Row for murder 4 years ago. He'd started getting on top of things right away. That had been one of the most horrible tribulations of their lives, and both of them could hardly believe anything could be possibly be worse than that. But this was just as hard. His daughters, his little girls looked up to him to take care of them and keep them safe, just like the public he served. But right now, he couldn't protect Stacy or take care of her. His hands were tied. Her cries of pleading just a few moments ago were playing over and over again in his head. If she was sick, at least Mark would be on hand to tend her, but this was electrically different in contrast. He was just so thankful that he hadn't been forced to be the one to arrest her in the first place! That would've been too hard! "Ahem. Yeah, I'm fine, Dad." Steve said more confidently.

"Come on, son. You have still have another child at home who needs you." Mark said softly. Steve looked up at him and nodded. Yes, his Kat was still here for him to love, and protect. They all walked out of the courthouse together.

"Buck up, Steve." Amanda said encouragingly. "We've been here before and the truth won in the end! Why should it be any different this time, huh?" Steve managed a weak grin at his friend's attempt to cheer him up. His ears perked up in sharp alertness in the car when Amanda and Mark told him of the news his fellow officers had shared with them.

"They really think she could have a motive for murdering her husband?" He asked excitedly.

"They aren't sure right now." Amanda answered. "But they said she could be considered a suspect." Steve sighed heavily.

"My job is to eliminate suspects." He grunted. "But this is one case where I'd like to see the list grow."

"I'm gonna see if I can find out why exactly she was planning to divorce him." Mark said.

"Well, you tell me _anything, anything_ that smells fishy to you!" Steve ordered.

"Of course."

* * *

Once more, Corporal Jeffers and Sgt. Barnes both led Stacy by the arms back to her cell. Detective Cheryl Banks followed them. Stacy's stomach was churning. She didn't want to be back in here, away from her family, and stuck with a manipulative, cold, and sneering criminal who enjoyed tormenting her. No, she wanted to go home! Twice, Steve had stood there without saying a word as she'd been taken away like a culprit and right now she had no idea what he thought of her!

She saw the cell number. It was coming, closer and closer. She hung her head and tears began to flow from her eyes. Corporal Jeffers unlocked the door and Stacy had to force herself to walk in. The door clanged shut behind her _again,_ and refusing to acknowledge Marsha Harring's presence, she threw herself onto her cot. The two men walked away but Cheryl lingered a little. She felt so bad for Steve, her partner and friend, and she wasn't too happy about having to treat his daughter like just another perpetrator. "Stacy, I'm sorry." She said lowly.

Stacy didn't look up. "Sorry won't change anything. Sorry doesn't make me vindicated!" She moaned. She knew Cheryl was sincere, but right now she was upset with all these cops who said they were her dad's friends. She was angry at them for forcing her to remain in this cracker box prison cell with a bully. In her heart, she knew that they were only doing what was right, but at the moment it all felt so wrong and she didn't know who believed in her innocence either. She just wept softly.

Cheryl sighed and slowly walked away, but not before a cold voice caught her ears. _"_ _So,_ they brought you back in here, did they?" Marsha grinned. "I thought you were gonna get out on bail and return to your perfect great white family." Cheryl cringed when she heard that.

" _Please!"_ Stacy begged, not even facing her assailant. "If you want to pick on me, pick another time to do it! Just leave me alone, right now! _Please!"_

But Marsha was only sharpening her daggers. "Ooo, so you didn't take it too well, huh? Pity. Oh, well. Too bad, so sad. Face it, Sloan: you're never getting out of here! Ever. You're as guilty as sin, and right now you're exactly where you deserve to be." Stacy wailed at those cruel words. "Oh, how I wish I could've been there! I would've loved to have seen the looks on your dear grandpa and father's faces when the judge passed sentence." Marsha clapped her hands in delight and laughed mercilessly.

"Y...y-you leave my dad...you leave my family out of this!" Stacy angrily, desperately cried out for mercy.

"He was there, you little wretch. He saw the evidence. You little back stabber. Imagine how your poor dad and family are feeling right now. Someone they loved and cared for has betrayed them. I'm not sure if they'll ever be able to trust you again after this, especially that big-headed father of yours."

"Ooohh!" Stacy sobbed heavily. "No, no! T-that's not true! Just stop! Please stop! Leave me alone!" Cheryl had heard enough and stomped angrily down the hall. She was going to have a talk with Captain Newman.

* * *

Cheryl stormed into the captain's office without being invited. He stared at her in astonishment but then went strictly cop. "Banks!" He glowered. "What do you think you're doing? What do you mean by bursting into my office like this?" Cheryl equally returned his dark glare.

"You can reprimand me later, Captain." She huffed. "We've got a problem here."

"Yeah, we sure do." Captain Newman replied.

"Sir, I'm here to reque...no! I am here to _insist and demand_ that you grant Stacy Sloan a different cell!"

"What makes you say that? Did she ask you to?"

"No, but I'm ready for when she does. And she will! I just heard an ugly conversation between her and that Marsha Harring prisoner who shares her cell." Cheryl explained. "That woman is a beast, and she's tormenting Stacy. She's also really mud slinging Lt. Sloan and his family."

"You can't expect a con to say nice things about her arresting officers, Banks." The captain said dryly. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Sorry don't change things." Cheryl retorted hotly. "Sir, out of respect for Lt. Sloan's reputation and fine record, I must insist that you put Stacy in another cell."

"Banks, I'd like to help, but my hands are tied. We can't grant special privilege to any prisoner, you know that, no matter what rank he or she or their family holds in the community. The system doesn't work that way."

"Sir, I..."

"Just hear me out." Captain Newman cut her off. "I highly respect and commend Sloan just as much as you do, but that doesn't mean his offspring are going to get special treatment. Has this woman threatened Sloan's daughter?"

"No." Cheryl mumbled. "But she's doing a pretty darn good job of harassment!"

"Well, then let's keep an eye on them for a while. If they verbally express harm to each other and act violently, then I'll definitely separate the two. In the mean time, you can give a good reprimand to Harring and tell her to cut out the junk. That's all I can do for now. You can go."

Cheryl sighed and shook her head as she stomped out of the room, closing the door behind her. She knew how angry and aggressive Steve would be if she told him what she just told his superior. He would be furious. She decided to take the captain's advice, but only for a short time. If things didn't change and the captain still refused to have Stacy moved, then Cheryl made up her mind that she would take this up with Chief Masters.

* * *

"She's gonna be in jail 'til the trial." Steve groaned, staring at the floor.

"WHAT?" Jessie blurted out. "Ugh! They can't do that!"

"They don't have much choice, Jessie." Amanda sighed. "And I'm just as upset about it as your are."

"Choices, choices..." Jessie sputtered vehemently. "You know, maybe they just enjoy giving the Sloans a hard time! Maybe they're tired of being thorough, and...and decided to just..."

"Jessie, they wouldn't do that." Mark shook his head.

"Grandpa's right." Kat nodded and Jessie gaped at her. He glared and stormed out to the patio. "He's just really tense right now." Kat stated.

"Well, remember, he can relate." Mark agreed. "He knows what it's like."

"So do you." Amanda said softly.

"Yeah." Mark hung his head with a sigh, then made his way to the kitchen.

"Kat, I have a favor to ask you." Amanda said.

"What's that?" Kat asked curiously.

"I have some extra work to do tonight at the hospital. I was wondering, would you mind staying with the boys for me, 'til I get home?"

"Sure. I'd like that." Kat smiled.

"You really don't mind?"

"No. It'll keep me busy. Besides, it's been a while since I was asked to watch someone's kids. And to tell you the truth, I've been missing it."

"Well, thank you." Amanda smiled widely. "I'll need you at about 6."

"Okay." Kat nodded. "Don't worry, I can have them help me make their dinner."

"All right. Sounds like a plan. Thanks a lot."

"Thank _you."_ Kat corrected her. It would give her a break from being at the beach house so much, which felt so sad and gloomy right now when people came through the door. Besides, Kat always loved to babysit and it would help take her mind off the trouble her sister was in.

* * *

Amanda walked outside and found Jessie down near the water, standing there with his hands in his pockets. She quietly joined him. "It is beautiful out here, isn't it?" She asked nonchalantly.

"Yeah." Jessie agreed. "You know, it's amazing how just being out here with the sounds of nature can just...I don't know, soothe you. Most of the time."

"I know what you mean." Amanda smiled. "It's peaceful right now."

"Amanda, you remember when I was put in jail for killing Eric Spindler?" Jessie asked, crossing his arms.

"I sure do!" Amanda nodded.

"I've been thinking about that time a lot lately. It was all horrible, day after day after day of waiting and hoping, wondering and not knowing anything that was going on. And just waiting and longing to hear or see a friendly face! I felt like I was trapped in an hourglass, with a lock on the top where I couldn't get out. Each day the sand would sink further beneath me and nothing I could do to stop it!" He hung his head, and covered his face with his hand. Amanda stared at him sympathetically.

"I...I just can't stand it, I can't _bear_ to know that Stacy's in there, going through the same thing I did!" Jessie moaned pitifully. "She doesn't belong there, Amanda! You know she doesn't." He glanced sadly at his friend who'd felt so much like a big sister to him. "I thought when Steve was critically shot and then Mark was convicted of murder..."

"Jessie, please..." Amanda begged, tearing up. She didn't want to go back to that painful time when they'd almost lost their dearest friends.

"I thought nothing could ever come close to that, and how hard it was." Jessie continued. "But, but now, it sort of feels like it's happening all over again! At, at least the way it did with the Eric Spindler case."

"Just think, Jessie. Steve's alive, Mark's here being Mark, and Kat is free as the air." Amanda said wistfully. "We have those things to be thankful for. I feel bad for Stacy too, more than I can say, but we're all working together on this, and it'll be okay. We won't give up."

"I just...I hate to know she's having to go through this." Jessie said in a quivering voice.

"I know." Amanda smiled sadly and rubbed his shoulder as they gazed out at the seemingly endless sea.


	10. Chapter 10 Suspects

It was Monday at noon, and Mark, Steve, and Kat were meeting at the beach house with Amanda and Jessie to discuss the case. They'd prepared a casual lunch and were eating outside on the patio. Annie was close by, eagerly hoping for scraps to drop on the floor. "So, you haven't heard back from Scott Beady, Loomis's attorney at all?" Jessie asked Steve.

"Nope." Steve shook his head as he set his can of Coke back on the table. "I've called everyday and he hasn't gotten back with me."

"Well, maybe he's on vacation." Amanda stated.

"I thought so too, but I called the office this morning, and his coworkers said that he's been in town all weekend."

"That doesn't sound like a good sign, on his part." Kat remarked. "Smells suspicious to me."

"You think maybe he's got something to hide?" Amanda asked wryly, a smirk on her face. "Maybe something that Loomis didn't want anyone to know about?"

"Could be." Steve nodded. "Might explain why his wife was considering filing for divorce."

"And why he was killed." Jessie said, smiling. "I mean, a guy as disliked as he was? He must have some deep, dark skeletons in his closet."

"Some he probably didn't want out in the open." Mark said. "I still want to talk to Mrs. Loomis. I want to hear her side of this."

"Mark, do you think she'll let you?" Amanda inquired.

"She might not. But I've got to try! I'm not gonna watch Stacy rot in jail and not turn over every rock that might have a secret beneath it."

"Well, what about Stacy's coworkers?" Jessie suggested.

"Well, Dad already talked to them." Kat interjected.

"But they all worked for the same dis-likable guy. I'm sure they had their shares of him treating them like dirt, a time or two. Maybe one of them also had a strong reason to kill him."

"Jessie's right." Mark said. "Jessie, why don't you talk with Bob Mosher? He's one of the photographers, and Stacy often speaks about him. He helps her out a lot."

"Sure." Jessie smiled. "No problem. Yeah, I think I've met him a few times."

"Yeah, he came to Stacy's birthday the week before." Kat stated. "And he brought Becky Johnson. They've been going out together for a while. I think she's a good friend of Stacy's at the paper. Maybe I could talk with her."

"I thought you were going to see Carlie today." Steve said. Carlie had arrived home from college for the summer break.

"Yeah, but I don't think she'd mind coming along. And I'll bring her back home before I go visit Stacy."

"Good idea, Kat." Mark spoke. "And tell her we miss her, and I'll be over to see her soon."

"I will." Kat smiled. "I'm going over to pick Carlie up after lunch."

"Yeah, well, if you pick up on anything you think could help our case, I want you to tell me first!" Steve declared firmly.

"Of course."

"Maybe I can talk with Mavis Anders." Amanda suggested. "From what you've said, she seemed like the only one who could reign Loomis in. I wonder why."

"Maybe she just had that rare, magical touch." Jessie shrugged.

"Have to be pretty immune to timidity to tackle with that old buzzard." Steve muttered. "Oh, and Jess, talk to Henry Stilton too. Stacy doesn't seem to like him, but see what he has to offer."

"Ooo, a troublemaker, huh?" Jessie smiled wryly.

"Not sure. But he does seem to live for the political side of the job."

"Don't worry." Jessie said. "If he has a kink in his armor, I'll find it!"

"I'm...sure you will." Steve smiled skeptically.

"I still want to go back to the crime scene and look things over thoroughly." Mark said casually.

"So do I." Steve replied. "But, I have tight-lipped attorney to try and talk to first." He set his plate with his hot dog on the floor. "Here you go, Annie girl. It's all yours." Annie wasted no time and started gobbling up the wiener, bread, link, pickle relish, ketchup, mustard, everything. "Well, I'd better get going. See you guys later." Steve stood up.

"Hey, Steve? Can I have your other hot dog?" Jessie asked eagerly. Steve stared at him.

"Jess, how many have you forced into that bottomless pit of yours already?" He asked in a teasing tone.

"Oh, I don't know. But I'm still hungry!"

"I stopped counting at 4." Mark grinned.

"Just have him question your suspects, and he'll be so eager to share what he found out, he won't even think about food!" Amanda chuckled.

"That's right." Kat nodded.

"As your friend, I shouldn't do this, Jess. But have at it." Steve shook his head and Jessie eagerly grabbed the other wiener. "Okay, I'll be going now."

"Bye, Steve!" Amanda and Mark called after him.

"I've got to go too." Kat said, grabbing another handful of Doritos. "See ya."

"Bye!"

* * *

Kat pulled up in front of the Wilsons' house. She hadn't seen her good friend Carlie in months, and was really looking forward to it. She walked up to the door and rang the door bell. "Kat! Well, hello!" Mrs. Wilson exclaimed in delight, giving her a hug.

"Hey." Kat smiled.

"How are you?"

"I'm...good."

"How's your family?" Mrs. Wilson asked quietly. Kat sighed.

"They're...doing okay." She said quietly.

"Kat, we're so sorry about Stacy. But just be assured that we're praying for you all." Mrs. Wilson gripped Kat's hand.

"Thanks." Kat nodded. Then Carlie appeared behind her mom.

"Kat! Hey, girl!" She smiled widely and hugged her best friend tightly.

"Hi." Kat laughed.

"So, you ready to go?" Carlie asked. "I am. See?" Carlie already had her purse with her. That was Carlie, always ready for whatever adventure came up and eager to get on the ball.

"Sure." Kat said lowly.

"Bye, Mom." Carlie kissed Mrs. Wilson then headed out the door.

"Hey, when are you girls gonna invite me along?" Mrs. Wilson teased.

"Mom, it's our first day with me back. You'll get your turn." Carlie and Kat both climbed into the car. They both waved to Carlie's mom, then Kat drove away. "So, what are we doing first, Kat?" Carlie asked curiously.

"Well, what would you like to do?"

"Look, Kat. We have all summer to go shopping. Why don't we just hang out for the day?"

"That actually sounds really good to me!" Kat sighed in relief.

"So," Carlie asked quietly, in that solemn tone of hers which indicated that she always knew something was heavy on her friend's mind. "How are you _really?"_

Kat glanced thoughtfully at her good friend. "I'm okay, Carlie." She said lowly.

"You worried about Stacy?"

"You know? I'm honestly not that worried about proving her innocence, because I know she is innocent, and I strongly feel that God's going to help us prove that...when the time is right. And I'm confident that Grandpa and Dad will figure it out. When it's time, we'll know it."

"So, this doesn't bother you at all?"

"Yes, it _does."_ Kat corrected Carlie. "I feel really bad for her, and I know it's pretty frightening. What really ticks me off is the way the police actually think she did it. That's what I find hard to swallow. I know they're just doing their jobs, but it's especially hard on Dad. His record speaks for itself, and he wishes that was enough to bust her out of prison. I'm just trying to stay calm."

"Well, somebody has to." Carlie agreed. "Are you allowed to see her?"

"Yeah, in fact I'm planning to see her after I bring you back home."

"That's fine." Carlie said.

"But, I have someone to talk to first." Kat said. "If you don't mind."

"Okay. Who?"

"One of Stacy's coworkers."

"Ooo. You mean interrogating a suspect?"

"Something like that."

"Hey, let's go for it!" Carlie burst excitedly. "Maybe when we're all finished, we can go to our favorite stop and just chill."

"Sounds like a plan." Kat nodded.

* * *

Steve pursed his lips and entered the small law firm complex. He walked up to the reception desk. "Can I help you, sir?" The secretary asked.

"I hope so." Steve huffed. "Lt. Sloan, LAPD." He pulled out his badge. "I'm here to see Scott Beady."

"Oh, well, I'm not sure if..."

"Listen, Ma'am." Steve said firmly. "I'm investigating the murder of Horace Loomis. I believe he was Mr. Beady's client."

"Y-y-yes. That's right. He was."

"I've left several messages for Beady in the passed five days, and he hasn't answered me. And I happen to know that he hasn't left town. Now, I want to see him. This is very important."

"Is he in some kind of trouble?" The lady asked timidly.

"I don't know yet." Steve replied calmly. "But I need to ask him some questions. And he might end up in trouble if he refuses to answer them."

"Okay." The woman gulped.

"Look, you don't have to announce me. I'd rather surprise him." Steve whispered with a grin.

"Uhm, through that door on the left, go down the hall to the right, and his door is the fourth one on the left." The secretary pointed nervously. "He should be in."

"Thanks." Steve cocked his head and calmly followed her directions. He finally reached Beady's door. He was about to knock, but then listened through the door when he heard a voice.

" _Look. I know, you'd think that everything goes to you, but..."_ The voice growled. _"Look, Janice, I know you're really upset about..."_ Steve heard a muffled, crackled, but vehement voice on the other end of the phone as Beady must have held it away from his ear. _"Hold on! It was his stupid choice, not mine! Yeah, sure, I went along with it but he paid good money. So how could I refuse? Now, now, now...all right, all right. I'll draw up the lousy papers if it'll make you happy and just leave me alone and quit bothering me. Yeah! I'm looking forward to it!"_ Then Steve heard the phone handle clank down. He raised his eyebrows with a curious grin and decided this would be the perfect time to make a grand entrance. Instead of knocking, he walked right in.

"Hi." He smiled. Scott Beady's face not only became dumb-struck but turned a hot pink.

"Who the heck are you?!" He snarled. "What do you want? And who let you in, unannounced?"

"Actually, I was hoping you could help me." Steve remarked casually, with his hands in his pockets.

"Sorry. Get out of here, sonny. I don't see clients without an appointment." Beady huffed and pulled a file out of his desk. Steve eyed it curiously, trying to make out what it said.

"Well, it's not like I didn't try to make one." Steve moaned. "I've left you several messages."

Beady gazed at Steve suspiciously, trying to size him up.

"Who are you really?" He asked with clenched teeth.

"Lt. Steve Sloan, LAPD, homicide." Steve showed his badge. "I've been trying to get a hold of you for the passed week, but you've been silent." Beady's face turned crimson, and he nervously started shuffling the papers in the file he'd brought out. He quickly stacked them together in a disorderly manner and shoved the file back into his desk drawer.

"What do you want, Lt.?" He asked in an unfriendly tone.

"I'm investigating the homicide of your wealthy client, Horace Loomis." Steve said with his hands on his hips.

"Tsk. Get out. Why don't you take a look in your own backyard, Barney Fife? We all know who the real killer is: _your_ own kid!" Beady sneered. Steve felt his face growing hot, and set his jaw to keep himself in check. It was extremely hard to do though.

 _Don't push my buttons too hard,_ he thought. "Don't even get me started!" Steve declared dangerously. "I'm here to talk about your client and his wife. I believe that was her you just argued with on the phone."

At this, Beady angrily rose to his feet. "I can take your badge right now when I present your department on charges of wire tapping!" He hollered.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Steve calmly shook his head.

"Liar! Darn you!" Beady exploded.

"As a matter of fact, I was about to knock on your door outside when I heard a violent argument. What was it about?"

"None of your darn business. Now get out, before I have you thrown out."

"Oh, really? This is a _murder_ investigation, sir! I'm trying to find who _really_ killed your client, and why. Maybe it was Mrs. Loomis herself."

"You don't know anything. Maybe she did. She certainly had plenty of reason."

"Such as?" Steve raised his eyebrows.

"That's lawyer/client privilege. I can't answer that."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Eh, to refresh your memory, the guy is dead!"

"All the more reason."

"Maybe you could just enlighten me."

"Look, I'm not enjoying your company."

"That goes for both of us." Steve huffed. "But that's okay, I didn't come here to make a new friend. Are you aware that you could get in trouble with the police for withholding information? You're a lawyer, you ought to know."

"I'm well aware of that, _Lt."_

"Well, then why don't you make it easier on yourself, for Pete's sake?" Steve asked impatiently. "I understand that Mrs. Loomis was ready to file for divorce right around the time of the murder. Why is that?"

"You figure it out." Beady snarked, and sat back down.

"I thought I could save the trouble of getting a search warrant, but that's no problem. I can get one if I have to...within the hour."

Beady sighed heavily with a scowl. He angrily opened his drawer back up and pulled out the file, and tossed it at Steve like it was trash. "Here, take it!" He growled. "Go ahead, tear my office apart and gather all the dirt you want to on Loomis! See if I care!"

Steve picked up the file and nodded. "Thank you for giving me this." He said and started to walk out.

"You're gonna ruin me, Lt.!" Beady scowled. "This goes south for me, it's gonna be all on you!"

"Is that a threat?" Steve asked.

"It's a warning."

"Well, you see I don't generally believe that people should be worried about their jobs or reputations being ruined...unless, they have something to hide, of course." Steve said casually.

"I've got nothing to hide!" Beady hollered, rising to his feet, and pounding his fists furiously on the desk, causing the glass figures and water pitcher to tingle and tremble. Steve raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"Glad to hear it." He said nonchalantly. "You know? I can easily see why Loomis picked you to be his personal attorney. Your tempers are birds of a feather."

"Get out!" Beady shouted and threw a law book at Steve, but it hit the wall instead.

"Ooo, that's not good." Steve shook his head. "That could be called assaulting an officer. But I understand, you're under a lot of strain, looking after Loomis's money, and dealing with a greedy widow, and all that. We'll be in touch. But I suggest you stick around town for a while." Steve was about to close the door. "Oh, yeah! And please, answer me next time I call. Works wonders for your phone bill at the eyes of curious lawmen." And with that, he closed the door and left.

Steve walked out to his car and shut the door, then opened the file in his lap. His eyebrows instantly rose as he glimpsed over the first page, and he whistled in astonishment as he flipped through the sheets of paper following it.

* * *

Jessie drove to the local gym where he was told that Bob Mosher was working out. He entered the building and glanced around for the tall, thin, dark-haired guy. "Uh, excuse me." Jessie beckoned to a very fit, long, sandy haired woman in a sweatsuit who smiled and approached him.

"Yes?" She asked, rubbing the back of her neck with a towel.

"Sorry to interrupt you, but I was told I could find Bob Mosher here. Can you tell me where is?" Jessie asked.

"Oh, Bob. Right. Yeah, he's right over there using the treadmill." The woman pointed out.

"Hey, thanks." Jessie smiled.

"Any time." The female smiled back.

Jessie passed many customers lifting weights, doing stretches, pushups, even jumping. He finally reached Bob, dressed in a bright blue T-shirt, darker blue shorts, and white sneakers. He was maneuvering at jogging pace on the treadmill. "Bob, Bob Mosher." Jessie greeted.

"Yeah?" Bob panted, looking at the doctor.

"I'm Dr. Jessie Travis. I'm a friend of Stacy Sloan's. We've met a few times."

"Oh, yeah. I remember you." Bob nodded but continued his workout. "Yeah, we were both at Stacy's birthday party, at her grandpa's beach house, wasn't it?"

"You've got a good memory." Jessie smiled.

"My line of work, you have to."

"Yeah, mine too." Jessie chuckled, leaning back against the wall, crossing his arms. "You always work out after lunch on a Monday?"

"Today, I do, at least 'til our new substitute director arrives."

"Bet it'll be nice to be working under someone who isn't a harsh taskmaster for a change."

"Oohh," Bob shook his head, "you bet!"

"Speaking of which, as a matter of fact, Stacy Sloan is why I'm here." Jessie stated. Bob looked at him with interest.

"What can I say?" Bob asked with a huff. "She's good at her job, she cares about the people she writes about and those who read it. Personally, I'm privileged to be working with her, to have her in our department."

"That's Stacy." Jessie agreed.

"Those cops are wrong!" Bob scowled. "Even after what happened at the office that day, she couldn't have killed our high and mighty Mr. Pompous. She just couldn't have!"

"I hear ya." Jessie shook his head. "Listen, Bob, can you tell me how you reacted that day after the balling out?"

"I was appalled at Loomis, not only for his blowing up like that, but also his false lawsuit he tried to bombard Becky with the day before! And that punk news hog Stilton had to go and stick his long nose into it!"

"Stilton?" Jessie inquired.

"One of our columnists. He's all out to get the promotions and whatever favors he can get. And he made Becky look bad, the rat!"

"From what I hear, Stacy doesn't speak too highly of him either."

"Smart. He's a pest, and sometimes I just want shove his own column down his throat."

"Ahem. Well, to get back to the day of the murder, so after the blowout what did you do?"

"I kept to my work," Bob replied. "Then Beck and I joined Stacy for lunch. After that, we finished up for the day."

"Where did you go when you left work?" Jessie asked.

"I took Beck to _Sami's_. We had a reservation."

"What time was that?"

"6:00."

"How long were you there?"

"We didn't leave 'til 7:00." Bob said.

"Can anyone confirm that?" Jessie asked. Bob squinted at him.

"Yeah. Becky. And the clerk and the waiter. If you're checking me out, you can ask the waiter there, we were there."

"Before you all left work, did Stacy say where she was going?"

"She said she had some special dinner plans." Bob said simply.

"After the row, did you see Loomis at all the rest of that day?"

"No. He had lunch out and didn't return for the rest of the day. Next thing I hear, he's been killed. And good riddance." Bob snarled and jogged more vigorously.

"So, you didn't like him." Jessie stated.

"Ha! You're darn right I didn't! And neither did anyone who has an ounce of sense. Mavis was able to keep her head under his overbearing ways, but I don't know how she did it."

"Anyone else you can think of who might want Loomis dead?"

Yeah: me, Becky, Stacy, Mavis, Henry, Georgina the secretary, you can ask anyone who worked for the jerk." Bob said emphatically. "Sure, we all had motive. But that doesn't mean all of us killed him."

"Right." Jessie grinned. "Well, hey, thanks, Bob." Jessie patted him on the back and started to walk away.

"Hey, Travis!" Bob called. "I've got something to say to you. Now, I know Stacy was pretty upset that day, and I know she had a strong motive for the crime. BUT, I know her...and I'm here to tell you that I KNOW Stacy Sloan didn't murder anyone! She's _not_ a killer!"

"I'll be sure to tell her father. He'll be happy to hear that." Jessie smiled. "Thanks." He started to turn again when he remembered something. "Oh, Bob? Would you know anything about the construction accident that Loomis got so fired up about? Do you know why he was so insistent about reading it on the spot?"

"I'm not sure why he was so interested in it," Bob remarked, "but I can tell you what it was about."

"You would?" Jessie raised his eyebrows.

"Will this help clear Stacy of murder charges?" Bob asked hopefully.

"I don't know yet. But it might explain why Loomis was killed. It might help her!"

"Then count me in. If there's anything I can do to help with this investigation, Travis, I'll do it! Anything to help a Sloan."

Jessie smiled. "I'd appreciate that a lot, bud. I mean, I was thinking that construction accidents happen a lot. Why would an investigative reporter feel the need to dig into it?"

Bob turned off the treadmill, climbed off, grabbed a white towel and rubbed his neck with it, picked up his backpack and Gatorade, then put his arm around Jessie's shoulder. "Come with me and you'll find out."

* * *

"I'm really sorry about Stacy." Becky Johnson sighed, sitting on her sofa. Kat and Carlie had stopped by at her apartment and she'd gladly invited them in.

"Yeah, we all are." Kat nodded.

"How is she? I know I'd be terrified if I had to be in a place like that."

"She's holding up. Becky, what can you tell us about the day of the murder?" Becky filled them in exactly word for word in confirmation of what Bob and Stacy had said. So nothing new there. "So, where'd you go after work?" Kat asked.

"Bob took me to _Sami's_. We've been going out together for a while, in case you didn't know." Becky smiled.

"Yeah, we heard about that." Kat nodded, and Carlie grinned. "And what time was that?"

"We arrived at 6:00."

"When did you leave?"

"I think it was at 7:00."

"Can anyone confirm your date?" Carlie asked.

"Yes." Becky replied. "The waiter who served us and the clerk who checked us out."

"Becky, did you hear anyone that day make any threats against Mr. Loomis?" Kat asked.

Becky rolled her eyes. "I don't know. Not that day." She muttered. "Well, Mavis Anders did say she'd like to bash his head in, but it's not like it's the first time anyone vented about him."

"I'm sure it isn't." Kat agreed. "By the way, how did things go with your lawsuit?"

"Pfft. I'll live." Becky huffed. "It's messy, but I have pictures and notes to prove I saw what I saw."

"Just one more question. Do you have any idea about the construction accident report that Loomis told Stacy to give to him?"

"That was Stacy's line." Becky responded. "But I was the one who gave the _televised_ report on the accident. Mr. Loomis started receiving phone calls about the situation and Stacy decided to look into it after he assigned it to her."

"Interesting." Kat stated. "You know what the phone calls were about?"

"No. I had to keep at task on the assignment _I'd_ gotten from him."

"Thanks, Becky. We've got to go."

"Aw, well, thanks for dropping by." Becky smiled. "Come by again. Will this visit help get Stacy out of jail?"

"Maybe." Kat shrugged.

"We hope so." Carlie remarked.

"If there's anything else I can do, please let me know!" Becky begged.

"I will. Thanks."

"Good to meet you, Carlie." Becky waved.

"You too."

Kat and Carlie left. "So, now what do we do?" Carlie asked.

"Well, if you don't mind going on a field trip, first, we're gonna go talk with Grandpa and Dad, see if they found out anything. Then we'll go out for a while before I see Stacy. You don't mind us spending the day like this, do you?"

"Oh, not at all." Carlie shook her head. "I'm really enjoying myself...as long as we go to our favorite hangout before you take me home!"

"Okay." Kat chuckled.

* * *

"How is poor Stacy?" Mavis Anders asked, sipping her coffee. Amanda had met her at the coffee shop.

"Well, I'm sure she's frightened," Amanda said softly, "but she's trying to be brave."

"She doesn't deserve to be in there." Mavis shook her head. "She's not a killer."

"I know." Amanda agreed. "It's a terrible strain on her father. He's taking it pretty hard."

"Lt. Sloan is a good man." Mavis sighed. "They all are. I can't believe someone would want to make them look bad."

"I've wondered that many times. Miss Anders, what can you tell me about the day of the murder?"

"Well, we were all going about our work, 'til Loomis stormed in and started ranting on the folks in our unit." Mavis explained. "He just barged right up to Stacy and badgering her for no reason. He was very insulting too." Amanda cringed. "Then, for some ridiculous reason, he demanded that she turn in her report on the construction accident she'd been investigating.

He knew she couldn't do that because it wasn't complete yet. Still he demanded she give it to him in full at that moment."

"That sounds pretty unreasonable to me." Amanda remarked.

"You'd better believe it." Mavis agreed, wide-eyed. "He threatened to not just fire her but also smear her so no other paper in his connections would accept her."

"That's awful." Amanda said sympathetically.

"Then, he ordered that she give him the full construction accident report in an hour, or else. She was terribly upset, but managed to finish her original Hawkins' case report like she'd been ordered to the day before."

"Did Loomis jump on her for not turning in the other one?" Amanda asked.

"No. He left at lunch and didn't return the whole day, thank God." Mavis rolled her eyes.

"Do you know why he didn't come back?"

"He said he had a meeting with some business associates."

"Must have been either a very long-winded or very heated conference." Amanda stated.

"Mmm." Mavis raised her eyebrows.

"When was the last time you saw Stacy that day?" Amanda asked, looking and hoping and praying for any tidbit she could sniff out that would exonerate her daughter-like friend.

"When we all signed out." Mavis said. "She said she was going home."

"Did she or anyone make threats about Loomis that day?"

" _I_ said I'd like to bash his head in."

"So would I." Amanda grinned.

"And Bob said he'd like to see Loomis out of the place, but we're all used to hearing and saying those things. I guess someone there just took it literally, decided they'd had enough, and thought they could make sure it happened. I just don't see Stacy as that kind of person."

"Neither do I!" Amanda agreed. "Miss Anders, just for curiosity's sake, where were you at around 6:30 the night of the murder?" Mavis sat back in her chair and laughed.

"Did you learn all this interrogation stuff from working with Lt. Sloan too long?" She teased. Amanda grinned and shrugged. "I went to my favorite restaurant, _Tinelli's,_ to chill after such a day. Then I went home."

"Can anyone vouch for you?" Amanda inquired.

"No one from the paper, if that's what you mean. The clerk there saw me though."

"Okay. Well, thank you very much for your time, Miss Anders. I appreciate you meeting with me." Amanda smiled warmly and shook hands after standing back up.

"I have to admit, I felt like I was being questioned by the police again." Mavis smiled wryly.

"Sorry about that," Amanda shrugged. "I'm just trying to help Stacy, and was hoping to find something that might turn up in her favor."

"Of course. I understand." Mavis nodded. "But if you want someone who really had a reason to kill Loomis, there's Georgina Rivers."

"Georgina Rivers?"

"Horace's secretary. She hated him more than anyone...even Bob Mosher!"

"Thank you. I'll remember that." Amanda said.

* * *

"Okay, Travis. Let's go." Bob said after gathering the necessary papers and envelopes from his desk. The two men were just walking out of the department when Henry Stilton appeared.

Bob pursed his lips and tried to walk more briskly to avoid his opponent.

"Hey, Bobby, who's your friend here? Your campaign manager?" Henry asked sarcastically and laughed at his own joke.

"Cut it out, Stilton." Bob glared. He never called Henry by his first name. "You know I don't play that way. But I know _you_ do."

"Hey, hey, relax. Take it easy, camera boy. Can't you take a little humor?"

"I don't appreciate your taste in humor. Or anything for that matter."

"Well, it's a free country. A man's entitled to his opinion."

"And you are?" Jessie asked.

"Henry Stilton." Henry smiled smugly. "Who are you, Shorty? Are you our new recruit, come to take Sloan's place?" Jessie frowned.

"Hardly." He muttered. "I'm a doctor. Dr. Jessie Travis, from Community General Hospital."

"Ooo, looking for some advertising, huh? I get it, you need a press agent! Well, you've come to the right place. Henry Stilton, at your service." He handed Jessie his business card. "Don't sweat it, go get it! That's what I always say. But, if you're looking for some help right now, sorry. Can't make it. I have a very important meeting to attend and I'm not missing it for anyone." Jessie raised his eyebrows.

"What kind of meeting?" Bob asked, feeling he'd rather not know.

"I'm putting in for new assistant director!" Henry announced triumphantly.

"What? Look, blabbermouth, we don't need a new assistant director. She's not the one who was murdered. Our director was."

"Oh, we'll be needing one if I have anything to say about it!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, I did a little checking, and I found a discrepancy in her bio that I think the board of directors will find very interesting. Then we'll see who's the new assistant director around this place! Well, gotta go."

"Wait, Mr. Stilton!" Jessie called.

"No time." Henry stated. "Oh, and by the way, Bob, personally I think this paper will run so much more smoothly now that Loomis and Sloan are gone. Don't you think?" Bob clenched his fists and Jessie glared.

"I thought Stacy was on suspended leave for the time being." Bob protested. "That's what I heard from the board of directors."

"They'll change their minds...when I'm through with them." Henry gloated with a puffed lip and it took all of Jessie's self-control not to smack him. Bob, on the other hand, gripped Henry's arm tightly.

"What are you talking about?" Bob asked through clenched teeth.

"Just that I don't think they'd want her around here with all that's happening."

"Well, I'm gonna have a word with them too! So just watch it!"

Henry just smiled gloatingly. Jessie bit his lip hard to keep from saying anything rash. "Oh, did you hear? Georgina's no longer here either!"

Bob's jaw dropped. "What?" He gasped.

"Funny thing. She just up and quit, this morning." Henry remarked casually.

"With no small thanks to you, no doubt." Bob snarled.

"Hey, I don't run this place...yet." Henry chuckled and left.

"Man, he's a pill." Jessie shook his head. "And a foul-tasting one at that."

"He hasn't heard the last of this." Bob growled. "One of these days I'm gonna take his head off and put it on backwards."

"Mind if I stick around to watch?" Jessie asked with lit up eyes. Bob grinned. Then Jessie's face fell. "Bob, is...is Stacy really fired?" He asked worriedly.

"I hope not." Bob commented. "I'll see what I can do. Let's go."

* * *

"Dad, it's me." Steve spoke into his phone as he drove along in his car.

"Hey, Steve. Did you see Scott Beady?" Mark asked.

"Oh, yeah! I saw him. Found some very interesting information on Horace Loomis too. I'm on my way to the hospital right now so we can discuss it."

"Good!" Mark declared with a sigh. "Oh, and I have some good news too. Mrs. Loomis agreed to join me for lunch tomorrow. Might be a good time for you to make a house call." Mark hinted.

"All right." Steve replied.

* * *

 **So, who do you think did it? Got any suspects of your own to add or scratch off the list? I would really like to hear your opinion. Reviews would be nice. Of course, I knew who the killer is, but you'll just have to bear with me and figure it out for yourself. Either that, or ride along with them and find out.**


	11. Chapter 11 A Juicy Tidbit

"Steve, there you are." Mark greeted as he walked out of an examination room with a patient's clipboard. He went straight to the nurses' station. "Judy, Mr. Filmer needs a refill on his Lantus. Call the pharmacy and order the prescription." He handed the said nurse the clipboard.

"Certainly, Dr. Sloan." Judy nodded. "Hi, Steve." She smiled.

"Judy." Steve smiled back.

"So, Steve? You found something very interesting on Loomis?" Mark asked eagerly.

" _Very_ interesting." Steve responded as they started heading for the doctor's lounge. "It seems that Loomis was a big shareholder in five corporations in LA: not limited to _Tinelli's_ restaurant, Bannerman Construction, TCI Printers, Dilia's Boutique-on of the ritziest joints out there for well-paying women who want the absolutely perfect outfits-, and the Powell Howard Library."

Mark raised his eyebrows. "All well-thriving, big businesses. That explains the four separate bank accounts that Cheryl mentioned."

"Yep." Steve said. "Loomis was a shrewd business man. But there's more to it than that." They entered the doctor's lounge. "According to his last will should anything happen to him, his wife Mrs. Janice Loomis was only to receive a fourth of the money left when he died." Mark listened intently as he sat down holding a can of Coca-Cola.

"Only a fourth?" He sputtered. "Does it say why?"

"That's where it gets very interesting." Steve said smugly. "She was also to receive only all the household items _she'd_ acquired over the years, and only all her personal belongings, including everything she'd had when she first married Horace Loomis."

"Why so skimpy?" Mark asked. "Don't tell me a disgruntled boss like him actually had the generosity to give the rest to charity!"

"I, uh...don't know about that part yet. Right now I don't know who or what the rest of the money is supposed to go to." Steve sighed. "This file only mentions what Janice was to get if her husband died. But don't worry, we'll find out!"

"Well, we'd better!" Mark declared. "We've got to find something in this mess that will point us to the real killer and set Stacy free."

"Hi, Dad. Hi, Grandpa." Kat said as she and Carlie entered the lounge.

"Lt. Sloan, Dr. Sloan," Carlie smiled.

"Hi, honey." Mark smiled at his granddaughter. "Hello, Carlie. Good to see you back in town."

"Good to be back, Doctor." Carlie answered.

"Well, Becky Johnson didn't have much to offer." Kat sighed and Steve huffed through his nose. "At least, nothing short of what you've already been told."

"Thanks for trying, Kat." Steve sighed.

"Sure. So, did you find out anything?"

"Well, turns out that Horace Loomis was a big business man in the community, more than we expected."

"He was a co-owner in five businesses, including TCI Printers." Mark said.

"That's where my dad works!" Carlie piped in.

"That's right, he does."

"I never imagined that someone Stacy's been accused of killing could be half-responsible for my dad's salary."

"Well, not anymore." Steve added.

"Hi, guys." Amanda sighed as she came into the lounge.

"So, how did it go with Mavis?" Mark asked eagerly.

"Not much to go on, I'm afraid." Amanda shook her head. "Not more than we already know. And she was at _Tinelli's_ the time of the murder."

"Another dead end." Mark sighed.

"Hey, everyone, I've got interesting news." Jesse chimed in as he appeared with Bob Mosher.

"Lt. Sloan, I'm Bob Mosher. Remember, we met a few days ago?" Bob smiled and offered his hand out to Steve.

"Yes, I remember." Steve nodded and shook his hand. "Stacy speaks about you quite a bit."

"You came to Stacy's birthday party." Mark added.

"That's right." Bob nodded.

"And you remember Stacy's sister, Kat?"

"Hey, how you doing?" Bob smiled.

"Good." Kat nodded quietly.

"He's kind of cute," Carlie whispered to Kat.

"He has a girlfriend." Kat retorted.

"Whoops. My bad." Carlie chuckled.

"Dr. Travis came to see me, to ask about a case Stacy had been working on. I'll fill you in as best I can." Bob said.

"We'd really appreciate that." Mark smiled.

"Okay, Loomis had been receiving numerous calls regarding the construction accident that happened three weeks ago." Bob began. "For some strange reason, he assigned Stacy to cover the story. I went along mainly as a photographer. She went to visit the accident victim, Barry Jones, at St. Victor's Hospital. He was seriously injured: a broken spine with paralysis from the waist down, and now he'll be spending the rest of his life rolling around in a wheelchair. All she told me was that one of Barry Jones's former co-workers who is also in a wheelchair was visiting him at the same time Stacy did. She told me that Jones's co-worker was mad as a hornet, and was broadcasting that he too had been a victim of the same accident. And he blamed Horace Loomis for it." Everyone raised their eyebrows.

"Can you tell us anything more about that?" Steve asked hungrily.

"No. You'll have to ask her." Bob shook his head.

"Dad, I think you and I better go do that right away." Steve suggested.

"I can take over your rounds, Mark." Jesse offered.

"Thanks, Jess." Mark smiled. "And thank you, Bob for the information. We appreciate it."

"Anything else I can do to help, please give me a call or come see me." Bob insisted. "Anything to help a Sloan."

* * *

"What have you turned up, Lt.?" Jeffers asked Steve as he caught him in the hallway at the station.

"Not much yet," Steve shook his head, "but Loomis made some queer requirements to be enforced on his wife should he suddenly leave his lavish life."

"I want to see it, Lt."

"I thought you would." Steve grunted, handing him the folder. "What? You thought I was going to withhold information from you so I could spring my daughter out of here?"

"You're putting words in my mouth, Lt." Jeffers frowned.

"Yeah." Steve retorted and kept walking.

Stacy was relieved and surprised to find that Mark and Steve were there to visit her. After they'd warmly but slightly sadly greeted each other, they told her they wanted to know about her investigation at Bannerman Construction."Why do you want to know about that?" Stacy asked confused.

"We aren't sure yet, Stacy." Mark answered. "But we think it could lead us to who killed Loomis."

"Okay," Stacy began. "When I went to visit Barry Jones, the victim in the hospital, he said that his injury was due to unreliable scaffolding that he'd been assigned to work on. The insurance investigators confirmed his claim when they discovered unfinished, loosely fit together scaffolding on the joints."

"How did the inspection crew miss that?" Steve asked. "That there alone is a liability."

"Apparently, there was no inspection crew." Stacy shook her head. "According to what I found out, they'd been scheduled to check it up, but were conveniently forced to cancel due to a more urgent once over from another company."

"And the director still let his employees work on it?" Mark gasped. "That is negligence and endangerment."

Stacy continued. "The day of Jones's accident, he out of everyone else was specifically assigned to work that shift. When I saw him in the hospital, another co-worker of his, Chance Langley, was hollering that the same thing had happened to him two months before. He claimed that Horace Loomis had something to do with it, though I still don't see the connection. Anyway, then he blurts out something that got me very curious."

"What was that?" Mark and Steve asked together.

"Langley adamantly told me that he was not the first victim of such an accident at that construction site." Stacy declared. "According to him and other former coworkers which I ended up questioning later on, it turns out that Jones and Langley plus five other previous employees at Bannerman Construction all had similar scenarios: all particularly assigned to work on that same piece of scaffolding, each with a terrible accident with the same life-altering injury, and all of them were fired the day of their accidents."

"What?" Steve sputtered.

"Yes. Langley had no trouble in telling me that each of the accident victims, on the day of their trauma, received a phone call from Bannerman Construction only to be informed that they were fired."

"I guess they felt they were no use to the crew after the doctors released the extent of the damage to their injuries." Mark commented.

"That's what's puzzling." Stacy protested. "Each phone call was made _before the_ supervisors even received the doctors' reports!"

"You're not serious!" Mark gasped.

"Yeah, and get this: each victim was refused Worker's Compensation. They fought for it, they sued Bannerman Construction, they sued the county, but without their employment, they didn't get very far. The board members apologized for their unfortunate turn of events,"

"How cordial." Steve said cynically.

"But they said they were powerless." Stacy finished. "I didn't plan to put this info in the paper, until I was absolutely sure who was definitely responsible for this."

"Sounds like a premeditated pattern." Mark said.

"Yeah." Stacy nodded. "But who would do such a thing? I mean, how do they expect to stay in business or get their construction projects complete if they keep getting rid of their workers? To me, that doesn't sound like the smart thing to do!" Mark chuckled, agreeing. Her question reminded him of when she was a little girl and was learning that not everyone was honest like her family.

"It's smart to them, if they take the compensation money out of their employees' pension plan and use it for themselves." Steve said dryly. "Blood-sucking leeches draining more than just a little nourishment from their victims."

"Oh, that's awful." Stacy groaned. "Who do they think they are? Glad I don't work for them!"

"I think someone had better talk to the board members at Bannerman Construction." Mark suggested.

"I think _I_ better go pay another visit to Scott Beady." Steve stood up. "Apparently, there are more skeletons in Loomis's closet than he's letting out. Well, I want to find out what and who they are."

"Ohh," Stacy moaned. "Do you have to go...right now?" She pleaded. Steve stared at her sympathetically.

"Sorry, hon." He said lowly. "I don't like to leave you in here, but the sooner we find out more information, the better."

"I know," Stacy hung her head. "And, I'm really glad you're doing it. I...just wish it was enough to get me out of here."

"I know." Steve sighed.

"Was the information I gave you helpful?" Stacy asked eagerly. "D-do you think it'll make a difference?"

"It could." Mark spoke up. "We need to find out what connection Loomis has to the victims, or if he's connected personally to the victims."

"You know, if that was that was the case, as angry as Langley was, I think he would've told me." Stacy interjected.

"Well, I guess it's up to us to find out." Mark shrugged.

"Even if he's not, Stacy, I think you just gave us a reasonable lead to suspect the board members of Bannerman Construction are conspiring together in maiming then stealing from their employees." Steve remarked with an edge of relief.

"Will you come back soon?" Stacy asked anxiously.

"We'll certainly try, honey. Come here." Mark said softly and gave her a reassuring hug. "Just keep praying and try to be patient, all right?"

"I'll try." Stacy sighed.

"That's our girl." Mark smiled.

"Bye, honey. I'll see you later, okay?" Steve added.

"Okay." Stacy nodded with a sad smile. Mark waved to her and just as the two of them left the room, then her sister entered. "Kat!" Stacy exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Came to see you." Kat smiled. Stacy walked up and hugged her.

"You're a sight for sore eyes." Stacy said sadly.

"So, how are you doing?" Kat asked sadly. Stacy's face fell.

"Miserably." She answered. Kat touched her shoulder.

"I'm sure you are." She said sympathetically.

"So, how is everything going?" Stacy cleared her throat.

"Busy." Kat replied. "And trying to figure out what happened to you."

"You know what happened to me."

"Okay, that didn't come out right." Kat chuckled. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah." Stacy nodded. "So, what's been going on with you guys? Have you seen Carlie yet? How does she like college?"

"She says it's exciting." Kat answered. "And she thinks Bob Mosher is cute."

"How did she meet Bob?" Stacy asked confused.

"He came to the hospital with Jessie, and told us a little of the case Dad and Grandpa were talking with you about."

"Oh. So Bob's helping with the case?"

"He was today." Kat said then they talked about home.

* * *

"So, what next, Steve?" Mark eyed his son curiously.

"This time, I'm not entering Beady's office without a warrant!" Steve answered. "We're going in and I'm gonna tear that place apart if I have to."

"You'd better settle down a little, Steve." Mark warned. "You're getting impatient."

"I'll worry about that later." Steve growled. "By the way, when you see Janice Loomis tomorrow, maybe you can ask her if she knows anything about the situation at Bannerman Construction, or any of Horace's other 'kingdoms' for that matter."

"I'll try, Steve." Mark said. "I'm not sure how willing she'll be though to share with me about much. She may not know a thing about all this."

"Maybe." Steve said skeptically. "But right now my money's on her."

"Just don't go making any rash bets, okay?" Mark asked longingly. He could see Steve's anxiety to clear Stacy starting to drive him toward the unbending road, and he didn't want his son to get himself or anyone else in trouble. Steve didn't answer his father. He just pursed his lips and walked on.

* * *

 **Ooo. What do you guys think? Could this tie in very well to Loomis's death? It'd be nice if you let me know your thoughts.**


	12. Chapter 12 A Public Parasite

Steve and Mark both woke on Tuesday morning with strong feelings of anticipation. They certainly hoped that their interrogation visits would prove productive. Steve decided to go for a jog before breakfast to clear his mind. He asked Kat if she wanted to join him-they often ran together-, but this time she declined. She was still groggy from sleeping in: summer vacation. But she gladly offered to do it with him if he decided to go again later after work. Steve didn't mind though, he wanted to be alone so he could think more logically. However, Annie did join him. Kat was planning to visit her sister after lunch, and when she returned home later, since she had lots of time off, Kat decided to rearrange her bedroom while Steve and Mark were at work. She had a habit of liking to change things around every so often and had been talking so much lately about doing it anyway. And there would be no better time than now. Plus she was planning to contact a few of the daycare centers that her former employer had referred her to.

Steve soaked in every moment of the heart-pumping, muscle-burning exercise. The pushing forward on his body helped him blow off steam and or released the stress he was going through. When he returned home, he felt physically refreshed, and a renewed determination burned inside of him. After showering, he was ready to take on the challenge of this day and couldn't wait to step on things.

Kat went through Stacy's home files, printed and on her laptop, on the Bannerman Construction case. She wanted to see how far Stacy had gotten with the information she'd gathered. Maybe _something_ in there would help them find the real killer, though Kat had no idea what.

* * *

Mark busied himself during the morning by doing his rounds and reluctantly catching up on paperwork that Delores had been hounding him with. 11:30 rolled around, and he could finally leave the hospital on his lunch break to take Mrs. Loomis out. He really, really hoped she would be able to shed some light on which direction he could search for the killer...besides Stacy. "Hey, Mark. Where are you going?" Amanda asked him as he headed for the elevator.

"I'm taking Mrs. Loomis out to lunch." Mark replied.

"Oh. I hope that goes well." Amanda said.

"So do I. I'll see you when I get back." Mark smiled and waved, walking away.

"Where's he off to?" Jessie asked behind Amanda.

"A little friendly consultation." Amanda said casually.

"Oh?" Jessie raised his eyebrows. "Really? Huh. Mmm-hmm."

" _What_ are you thinking?" Amanda asked suspiciously.

"You know what? I just remembered. I have a house call to make!" Jessie smiled widely, his eyes lit up.

" _Jessie..."_

"Bye!" Jessie cheerfully waved and scurried out of sight. Amanda squinted at him and nodded.

"House call." Amanda snorted. _"Yeah right."_

* * *

Steve confidently once again walked inside the law firm where Scott Beady was employed. He was ready to play ball and couldn't wait for Beady to step up to plate. He walked up to the reception desk. "Oh, you're back?" The lady raised her eyebrows uncomfortably.

"That's right." Steve nodded. "I want to talk with Scott Beady. Is he in, I hope?"

"I-I'll ring him for you." The lady answered nervously. She paged her boss's office. "S-sorry, Lt. There's no answer." She gulped.

"Oh, really?" Steve raised his eyebrows. "No problem. Excuse me." He trotted down the hallway toward the door he wanted. The receptionist anxiously followed him.

"Wait!" She called. "What are you doing?" Steve stopped at the door and knocked.

"Beady! It's Sloan. Open up. I have a search warrant." Steve bellowed, but received no answer. They could hear a briefcase closing behind the door. "Someone's in there." Steve stated and pulled out his gun, making the receptionist gasp.

"What are you going to do?" She trembled. Steve opened the office door and walked in.

"Uh-huh, so you thought no one would think you were here, huh?" He asked sarcastically, pointing his gun at the stunned, provoked attorney who glared at him. "Look, Beady. Why don't you make it easy on yourself? Show me what's in the briefcase and we don't have to make a scene here." Beady didn't answer, but instead quickly reached inside his jacket and pulled out a pistol which he immediately fired. Steve ducked and the secretary screamed as Beady fired sporadically. Steve doubled over, pushing the woman under him for her safety while Beady kept firing as he made his way to the door. He ran out. "Stay here!" Steve commanded the terrified woman and he sprinted toward the door. "Beady!" He called. Beady was at the end of the hall. He turned and fired again at Steve but missed, then he took off running. Steve raced after him and caught up just as Beady entered the lobby. He was just trying to dart out the door when Steve lept onto the reception desk and pounced on the attorney, dragging him roughly to the floor. He jerked the grunting man up and shoved him against the wall. "You're an attorney. You ought to know the penalty for taking shots at an officer." Steve stated as he handcuffed him. "You and I are gonna have a little talk!"

The trembling, crying secretary walked into the lobby. "You okay, ma'am?" Steve asked.

"Noo," the woman shook her head and her lips quivered. She was holding onto her arm which was bleeding. She'd been cut sharply with a big shard of glass shattered from Beady's last bullet in his office.

"All right. I'll get you some help." Steve sighed and pulled out his cell phone as he led Beady back to his own office.

* * *

While the paramedics stitched and bandaged the shook up secretary, Steve had handcuffed Beady to his own office chair and began his interrogation. Cheryl had arrived with extra officers, and she was in the room with Steve, watching and so was Sgt. Barnes. "Why did you shoot, Scott?" Steve asked in a hard tone.

"If you'd stop meddling like I warned you, I wouldn't have had to use the darn gun." Scott grumbled.

"But then, if you had opened the door when I'd told you to, we could've avoided all this unpleasantness."

"I wouldn't have had to do anything, if you'd kept your long, stupid nose out of my business, Lt."

"But then, on the other hand," Steve remarked casually, "if you didn't have anything to hide, then I wouldn't have had to return with a search warrant, now would I?"

"Look, you are out of line, Lt.!" Scott fumed with a scowl. "I don't have to sit here and take this guff from a runny-nosed, blue-flamer cop who is gonna go down big time for harassment! Let me out of this chair, now!" Steve bent down and gripped Scott's suit sleeve.

"When you take pot shots at a cop and your own secretary it becomes very much my business!" Steve growled, close to Scott's face. The ticked off attorney glared. "So, what's the big secret, Scott? What did Loomis have on you that you had to keep a gun around so he wouldn't be exposed, huh? He was a scam artist, wasn't he? You knew about it, and he paid you very well to keep your mouth shut."

"I'm not saying another word without my attorney." Scott gazed icily at the ceiling.

"Oh, that's fine." Steve shrugged, letting go of the attorney's sleeve and standing behind him. "You see, we don't really need your word on the matter, the records will speak for themselves. However, we asked as a courtesy to you. Thought it might make things easier for you later on."

Sgt. Barnes was already skimming through various files in Beady's office and Cheryl opened the briefcase on the desk to view the contents. There were several sheets of paper. Cheryl and Steve both held them up and read them. They both raised their eyebrows and glanced at each other. "Well, Mr. Beady, looks like you and your late but unlamented boss have been very busy, haven't you?" Cheryl remarked.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Scott said dryly.

"Oh, really?" Cheryl smirked. "Then would you care to explain to us what the meaning of this is?" She held a stack of stapled papers up, showing it to him but he ignored it. "Your client was a very shrewd character."

"Pay-offs to for a low-life, Johnny Tuishi to sabotage the construction site at Hilliard Builders on the day of Barry Jones' accident. So that the inspection crew would be called away from Bannerman Construction the day of the accident and wouldn't be able to warn Barry about the danger. Oh, and looks like the same scenario on the date of Chance Langley's unfortunate accident..."

"You know, this list seems to grow and grow." Cheryl added. "I'm impressed. It isn't every day that a company's leading shareholder comes up with a scam to defect the company's property so they employees will be severely injured and then that mastermind gets to collect on the compensation from the workers' disabilities! Or have I got that wrong?" Cheryl asked Steve.

"It's a crazy world out there." Steve shook his head. "You'd have to be pretty imaginative, or should I say greedy and deceitful to come up with something that underhanded."

"I know nothing about it!" Scott vented.

"Then why were you rushing out of here with a case full of these files?" Steve asked sternly.

Scott bit his lip hard. Cheryl walked over him and pulled him up to his feet. "You're coming downtown." She said.

"What for?" Scott rolled his eyes.

"Shooting at a police officer for starters." Steve said with his hands on his hips. Cheryl walked Scott Beady out. "Ma'am, we're gonna need a statement from you." Steve told the secretary.

"Do I h-have to?" She asked shakily. She was still overwhelmed and frightened from all that had so suddenly transpired.

"I'm afraid so." Steve sighed. "Look, once you've given your statement, you're free to go."

"Okay." She reluctantly agreed. "I just wanna go home." She moaned as another officer gently led her out. Steve sighed.

"Hey, Lt.?" Sgt. Barnes raised his eyebrows to Steve.

"Yeah?" Steve turned to his younger sergeant.

"I think you're gonna want to see this." Barnes said from his seat at the desk. Steve came over and leaned over him, reading the paper before him.

"What have you got?" Steve asked.

"Read right there." Barnes pointed to the recipient's name on the upper central line of the paper.

"Myra... _Loomis?_ " Steve sputtered in astonishment.

* * *

Mark sat at his outside table at the restaurant he'd suggested to Mrs. Loomis and kept turning his head, waiting to spot her as he sipped his iced tea. At last he saw her. He rose to his feet and smiled as she approached him. "Ah, Mrs. Loomis. Good to see you again." Mark greeted warmly.

"Dr. Sloan," Mrs. Loomis replied quietly, shaking his hand.

"Please, have a seat." Mark offered and pulled her chair out for her.

"Thank you." The waiter asked her if she wanted anything to drink. She ordered a lemonade and the waiter left.

"Thank you very much for agreeing to meet with me." Mark said. "I really appreciate it."

"No more than I do." Janice Loomis slightly smiled. "I need someone to tell my troubles to."

"Well, that's what doctors are for." Mark shrugged casually. Then he grew more serious. "I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Yeah, well..." Janice rolled her eyes. "To tell you the truth, I miss getting a decent night's sleep more than I miss _him!_ And that was before he died!"

"You wanna tell me about it?" Mark prodded gently. Janice solemnly stared down at the table. She bit her lip and Mark could see tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm sorry. Maybe you're not ready for this." Mark said sympathetically.

"I am ready for this!" Janice protested, but there were tears streaming down her face. "Don't be fooled, Dr. Sloan. I am mourning my husband, but... _not_ the way you think."

Mark nodded. "I'm afraid I don't understand." He said quietly.

Janice took a very deep breath. "My husband was a roach, Doctor." She said flatly. "In the beginning, I thought he loved me, but I found out four years too late that the only thing he ever loved was money! He only cared about himself."

"I...I have heard testimonies that he wasn't the most likeable person." Mark agreed, hoping to ease her tense body language.

"Eh-heh." Janice chuckled angrily. "That's putting it mildly. You know, when we were first married, it was nice and sweet, but then he devoted more and more time to his finances and after a while he completely ignored me altogether. You'd think with all that money that he'd shower me with gifts to as if that could make up for the quality time I didn't get, but he didn't even do that. He didn't even care how I spent all the money he gave me, as long as I didn't get it from his own personal account."

 _How cold,_ Mark thought.

"I was tempted to divorce him and even threatened to, but he wouldn't let me go, and since he controlled the household and business accounts, I felt powerless. But you know what the worst part is? Eventually, I didn't even miss his company. In fact, it was a relief if I didn't have to see him. My husband's always had a very short fuse, Dr. Sloan, and it just got worse as time went by. Especially the more money he made. It was marriage by name only. No substance at all. It was like living with a fictitious, greedy ogre."

"I see." Mark sighed. "Uh, Mrs. Loomis? If you don't mind my asking, would you know anything about your husband's financial activity, how he made all that money?"

"Unfortunately, I do." Janice nodded. "To put it in simple terms, he stole it!" She growled. Mark stared at discerningly. "What? You're not shocked or surprised?" Mark shook his head. "My husband came up with a scheme at Bannerman Construction to setup an unsafe scaffolding. Every employee who worked on it suffered tragic life-altering injuries. And then he had them fired. The board moved to compensate the workers, but my hus...but Horace, overturned their decision and refused to relent."

"Why would he do that?" Mark asked.

"Horace was the chairman. He's...he was a thief. Like I said, all he cared about was his money."

"How did you find out about this?" Mark asked curiously.

"The workers, their families," Janice hung her head. "They were furious. They appealed to the board, who were very apologetic but told them they weren't the ones responsible. They pointed them to Horace. He didn't deny it. They demanded their money, which was certainly due them. Horace denied their right. They threatened to sue, but without employment, what could they do? He...Horace laughed! He _laughed_ right in their faces!

'After that, they grilled Scott Beady. Oh, he was Horace's attorney. He threatened to have a harassment suit brought up against them. After that, they came after me. They threw garbage at our house and on my car. They came to our door and demanded that I give them their money. They urged me to appeal to my husband. Which I did, but as you've probably already guessed, that didn't go anywhere. I didn't tell him about the sabotage, he'd already put those people through enough. I didn't want to make things worse, or fuel their outrage anymore!' "

"Certainly not!" Mark agreed. "I don't blame you at all."

"After making some personal calls to the board at Bannerman Construction, they told me the truth. But with all the money Horace had, they couldn't go to the authorities because it would just be his word against theirs."

"I see." Mark said.

"It was the same with me. I offered to bribe Scott Beady to pay the people their money, but he tore my head off. I asked my own attorney if anything could be done, but he said if I couldn't get the records on Horace's plot, there wasn't much we could do. So I hired a PI to go in as an intern, but Beady didn't trust him and bit his head off. The investigator tried to get the secretary to get him the papers, but Beady caught her doing it and threatened to smear her. He'd gotten his office bugged: Horace told him to do it. However, I did send the PI to investigate Horace's other business shareholdings. He said that at each of them, an employee had been investigated for embezzlement but not enough to charge them with. If there was embezzlement, I bet I know who was ripping them off."

"But, how can you lay all of your husband's problems at Stacy's feet?' Mark inquired. "She didn't even know he was involved. She only checked out the construction workers' stories, that's all."

Janice glared. "I suppose I ought to thank her for ridding this city of the miserable leech." She muttered. "I'm glad someone finally did. But you want me to answer your question? Ha. How she's made my life miserable? Because I found out that she was married before, to Horace!"

Mark's jaw dropped and he was stunned in confusion. "What?!" He gasped. "Th-that's ridiculous! Ma'am, I don't know who you're talking about but I can assure you, it _wasn't_ our Stacy!"

"Really?" Janice raised her eyebrows. "Then perhaps you'd like to talk with my private investigator. He'll show you."

"Well, I certainly will." Mark said, wide-eyed. "What's his name?"

"George Pierce."

"Thank you."

"When I found out, I was furious. Horace wasn't just a parasite to his public, he was to me too. That was the last straw. I immediately filed for divorce, not that it didn't cross my mind before, but now I felt I had solid grounds, where he couldn't stop me! Horace had not divorced the woman! The night he was killed, I went to Scott Beady and after paying him a substantial sum, I dragged him to the house with me to confront Horace about it. And that's...that's when..."

"That's when you found Stacy. And Horace was dead." Mark finished for her.

"Yes. After the funeral, I learned what Horace said in his last will about me getting only everything that was rightfully mine, and only a fourth of the money. Like I cared about that!" Janice vented. "I ranted on Beady about it. I told him that all I wanted was to take what was mine and leave our house. He said he had to pull up some stupid paperwork first to see that everything was in order, so I told him to step on it!"

"So, what are you gonna do now?" Mark asked.

Janice exhaled heavily. "I'm selling the house, taking what's mine, and leaving Los Angeles. I'm going back to Dallas. That's where I'm from. The house will be auctioned off. I don't want anything else to do with that place any more than I have to. Everything I had there was a lie."

"Very much so." Mark stated. "That's just terrible. Janice, I'm so sorry that your marriage turned out so rotten. But I'm asking you to please not rush to judgement about my granddaughter. She's not a killer. If we could just have a little time, we should be able to prove it!"

The middle-aged woman sighed with her arms crossed. "I just wanted everything to be over. The court proceedings, the house selling, everything. I just want to go back home." She moaned.

"I understand that, but please. Could you hold off on pressing the charges against Stacy? I know it looks pretty conclusive, but I firmly believe there are some points that the police haven't delved into yet. I promise that we'll try to help you go back home as soon as possible."

"You're biased, Dr. Sloan."

"Eh, well...I believe I know my family better than most people. Please?"

"How do I know you'll keep your word? How do I know you won't leave me in the dust?"

Mark smiled warmly. "I won't. I promise. Just trust me. Just one more question. Do you know what your husband did with the money taken from the construction workers?"

"And how many other people he's cheated? No, I don't. But I do know that _he_ did something with it."

"I'm sure."

"Thank you for listening to my complaints, Dr. Sloan. I feel much better than I have in days." Janice actually smiled a little.

"Hey, that's what I'm here for." Mark grinned. "That's a doctor's job."

"Anything you can prescribe for me in regards to being patient instead of anxious."

"Just trust me."

* * *

Cheryl had grilled Scott Beady at the station but he denied everything. However, his face had grown more and more red with every accusation Cheryl laid on him. She finally stepped out of the interrogation. "Tough nut to crack." She remarked rubbing her head.

"I'll say. He went from Mr. Spout-Off to Mr. Strong, Silent Type." Steve added. "Well, I've got more important things to do than waste my breath on him. Look, let me know if you get anything out of him. And hey, you call me the minute you get something on this Myra Loomis!"

"You've got it." Cheryl nodded.

"I've got to go."

"Where are you off to?" Cheryl asked curiously.

"To look at a crime scene." Steve answered as he walked away. He called Mark as he drove away.

"Hi, Steve." Mark answered.

"So, did Mrs. Loomis shed the light on anything?" Steve asked hopefully.

"Boy, did she!" Mark exclaimed. "She certainly had a motive. But I don't believe she did it."

"What makes you say that?" Steve inquired doubtfully.

"Oh, it's too much to say on the phone."

"Did she happen to mention a Myra Loomis?"

"No. Why?" Mark asked with his brows furrowed.

"Horace Loomis had a relative that we didn't know about. But we aren't sure how she relates to this. Yet we found her name in one of Loomis's files. He was paying her a fancy amount of money, and apparently he'd been doing it for a long time. We're seeing if we can find anything on her. I'd certainly like to hear what she has to say about this."

"Yes. Hey, wait until you hear what _I_ found out!" Mark exclaimed.

"What?"

"Steve, are you sitting down or standing up?"

"Dad, don't play games with me." Steve groaned. "I'm in my car. Why?"

"Well, you're not gonna believe this..."

" _What?"_

"Horace Loomis was a bigamist." Mark replied.

" _Whoa."_ Steve raised his eyebrows. "Well, that probably answers a number of questions. Now I understand even more why someone wanted to get rid of him."

"Oh, yeah. But wait until you hear _this!"_

"Dad, would you just tell me?" Steve spoke impatiently.

"Janice Loomis thinks _Stacy_ is Loomis's other mistress!" Mark said excitedly.

Steve gaped in astonishment and absent-mindedly pushed on the brake. He just sat there. " _What?! You've got to be kidding!"_


	13. Chapter 13 Just a Prick

Steve's mind was blown away as he drove to the Loomis estate. "What in the world made that lady think that?" He asked himself in confusion. "This is ludicrous. Maybe that's why she killed him." He muttered. Of course, the only reason to suspect Janice Loomis of her husband's murder was motive, but right now Steve was reaching out for any fact, any development, any suspicion that came up, _anything_ that could take the suspicion off of his daughter. "Well, if that's her story, she can dig her own bed."

He reached the Loomis house and pulled up to the driveway. If he hadn't been so engrossed int his thoughts about what Mark had just told of Mrs. Loomis' theory, he would've noticed a familiar car parked down the street outside of the driveway. He parked and walked up to the front door. "Please, God. Help us find something to clear Stacy." He prayed and punched in the numbers of the security code to let himself inside. As he entered, he heard quick footsteps and a door slam shut. He immediately pulled out his gun and held it up as he cautiously slinked toward the noises. Maybe the murderer had returned! What luck that would be. Steve thought he heard whispering nearby, it sounded like it was coming from the study and he quietly approached it. The doors were shut, so he carefully opened them. No one was in sight, but he had a strong feeling that he was being watched closely.

He thought he heard a quick footstep behind him when, _"Now!"_ A voice hollered and he whirled around to see its source and another loud screech came from the other side of the room with a blurred figure diving at his feet!

"Police! Freeze!" Steve commanded, then froze. His would be assailant stood there gaping at him with an empty vase held back in her hand-clothed in a rubber glove-and his other attacker lay on the floor at his feet grinning sheepishly.

"Steve?" The woman groaned.

"Hey, Steve." The small figure on the floor said innocently.

" _What are you two_ doing here?" Steve asked in annoyance, frowning at Amanda and Jessie.

"Just trying to help." Jessie stated casually. "Thought maybe we could find something that nobody else thought to look for."

"Such as?" Steve squinted down at him.

"Er...I don't know." Jessie shrugged. "Just _something."_

"We thought you were the killer!" Amanda exclaimed.

"I thought you were." Steve muttered. "Jessie, get up! You look like a mangy dog laying on the floor like that." Jessie frowned and rose to his feet. "This is a crime scene, guys. You know I should arrest you two for interfering with a police investigation?"

"Hey, we're doctors making a house call." Jessie interjected.

"Yeah, is it our fault if the patient decided to take a hike while we were present?" Amanda grinned with her arms crossed.

"How did you get in?" Steve asked with his hands on his hips. "This house has a security code! I could arrest you for breaking and enter..." Jessie bit his lip and put on his best puppy dog eye face and Amanda just whistled. Steve's shoulders sagged and he covered his face with his hand. "Oh, no, no!" He groaned. "You guys didn't."

"Did what?" Jessie asked.

"Don't pull that innocent act with me, Jessie!" Steve growled. "You got the code from my dad, didn't you?" Jessie stared at the floor and Amanda set aside the vase and removed her rubber glove. _"Didn't you?!"_ Steve persisted.

"Steve, if we used the code to open the door, how can you call that breaking in?" Amanda asked.

"Yeah." Jessie agreed.

"Trespassing then." Steve scolded.

"We're medical consultants, and Mrs. Loomis is suffering from a terrible ordeal, right?" Jessie grinned.

"Please tell me you had the sense not to touch anything." Steve moaned in exasperation.

"Not bare-handed of that's what you mean." Amanda said and pulled some more rubber gloves out of her purse. She handed a pair to Jessie, then to Steve.

"So, did you find anything?" Steve asked.

"Not yet." Jesse shook his head. Then he crouched back down to the floor.

"You know, I was extremely tempted to search the bedrooms upstairs, but since the murder took place in here, I was afraid that'd make whatever we found up there inadmissible." Amanda said.

"You mean Horace and Janice Loomis had separate bedrooms?" Steve asked.

"I've heard rumors he wasn't exactly husband of the year material." Amanda said sarcastically. "Another thing I noticed throughout the house. There are no family pictures. The Loomis' didn't have children, did they?"

"No record of any." Steve shook his head as he searched the desk drawers and the bureau drawers while Amanda went through the bookcase. Jessie, however, was crawling close to the floor like a bloodhound with his face to the ground and kept knocking and patting on it. "Hey, turns out that the former employees at Bannerman Construction-the ones who were seriously injured and fired on the same day-all were swindled out of their workers' compensation. The board tried to intervene for them, but since Horace Loomis was the chairman, he overturned their decision and even mocked the victims when they confronted him about it."

"What?" Amanda sputtered.

"Nice fella." Jessie snarled sarcastically. "Maybe one of them had him killed."

"And how would they, complete strangers to us, manage to slip a knife and get Stacy's fingerprints on it?" Steve grunted.

"Yeah, especially if she was trying to help them!" Amanda added.

"Oh, and get _this!"_ Steve said emphatically. "Our charming Mr. Loomis wasn't just a swindler and liar, turns out he was a bigamist!"

Amanda whistled. "Really?!"

"Wow!" Jessie's eyes popped out. "Man, his chances for Man of the Year just keep going down lower."

"Then maybe she's the murderer!" Amanda said excitedly.

"Which one?" Steve chided. "They both certainly had motive, and Horace hadn't divorced either of them."

"Have you talked to this other Mrs. Loomis yet?" Jessie asked.

"Nope. First we have to find her." Steve said, then he and Amanda gazed at Jessie with furrowed eyebrows and both chuckled. He was still scouring the floor.

"Jessie?" Amanda laughed with her arms crossed. _"What_ are you doing?"

"Just trying to be thorough." Jessie answered without looking up. He knocked on the hard wood again then patted it with his other hand.

"This is the first I've ever seen of a doctor palpating a hard wood floor during a physical." Steve teased. "I didn't know floors got physicals."

"Be quiet, guys." Jessie scolded.

"Oh, shh." Amanda shushed Steve. "Medicine man at work here."

"Is this a new experimental treatment you're testing out, Jessie?" Steve joked. "Why didn't you bring your black medical bag with you?"

"I'm looking for something." Jessie retorted back.

"Oh, sure you are." Amanda chimed in.

"Stop humoring me! Okay?" Jessie whined defensively. "You know, filthy rich people like Loomis usually keep their most important secrets and treasures in a secret panel, or a trap door."

"Jessie, I thought you gave up searching for buried treasure when you were seven." Steve chided again.

"Well, now, Steve. Jessie could be right." Amanda interjected. "He might be onto something. Maybe we..." She stopped her sentence and glanced toward the hall in the direction of the foyer. There was a beep. "Steve! That's the security code! Someone's here!" Amanda panicked.

"All right," Steve said. "Amanda, get behind that door like you did with me. Jessie, under the desk! Now!" Steve ordered. Amanda hid behind the right study door while Jessie quickly crawled under the desk. It was slightly wide enough for him to shift his cramped position, but not tall enough for him to be very comfortable. Steve backed himself behind the left study door with gun drawn and waited.

The front door opened and they heard footsteps coming near. Amanda gritted her teeth and picked up the vase again, preparing to attack if Steve commanded. The steps were almost in the room! As the person walked almost passed the door, Steve inched closer and took a look. "Never mind, guys." He sighed and the woman, startled, quickly whirled around aiming her firearm at him.

"There you are!" Cheryl exclaimed. "Goodness, you took me by surprise."

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked, holstering his gun _again._

"I just knew this is where you'd be." Cheryl smiled. "Occupational instinct."

"Eh." Steve grunted.

"Cheryl?" Amanda asked as she emerged from behind the door.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Cheryl asked her.

"Oh, uh, I was just...uh, helping out Steve." Amanda nodded.

"Give me _that."_ Steve rolled his eyes, taking the vase from her hands. "Jessie, you can come out now!"

"Is he here too?" Cheryl asked.

"Promise not to shoot me, Detective Banks?" Jessie asked pitifully.

"Only if you touch something unauthorized." Cheryl answered back.

Jessie shook his head and leaned back on his hand when…"Ouch!" He squeaked as a very sharp, small but acute pain jabbed his hand just below his left pinky. The sudden shock of it caused him to attempt to spring upwards and he bumped the back of his head hard on the roof of his cave. "Oow! Ooo," He groaned loudly, rubbing his head.

"Jessie, you okay?" Amanda asked as they surrounded the desk, but all they got in response was moaning. Steve shook his head with a snicker and pulled Jessie to his feet.

"What, you can't even hide under a desk without getting in trouble?" He teased.

"S...someone...get this thing off me!" Jessie wailed, dangling his left hand.

"Ooo." Amanda cringed sympathetically. "Hold still." She tightly held his hand while she attempted to remove a small pendant from it. The needle was sticking his skin.

"Careful." Jessie whined.

"I _am."_ Amanda huffed. She pulled it out and Jessie clasped his hand as it started to bleed.

"Thanks." Jessie said sadly. "What is that?"

"A woman's brooch." Steve answered, taking it from Amanda and holding it up to the light of the window behind them.

"Is that blood?" Cheryl asked.

"Now there's a newsflash." Jessie muttered. "I just got stabbed with a needle and she asks, ' _Is that blood'?"_

"More than that. It looks like old, dried blood stains." Steve remarked. "And not yours, Jess."

"Old? Dried blood?" Amanda raised her eyebrows. "As corrupt as Horace was, I don't think he was the kind to wear women's jewelry."

"I know _I_ wouldn't!" Jessie added. "Too painful."

"Well, looks like Mrs. Loomis may have to answer some more questions." Steve stated, placing the brooch in an evidence bag. "We'll see if we can pick up any prints on it."

"Why don't you let me test the blood first?" Amanda suggested, taking the bag from his hands.

"All right, but it goes with me to the station as soon as you have it analyzed." Steve said. "Well, Jess, maybe there _was_ a method to your madness!"

"Yeah, maybe now you'll listen to me next time I look like I'm doing something weird." Jesse gingerly rubbed the back of his head.

"You _look_ like you're doing something weird?" Cheryl grinned.

"Come on, Jessie. We'd better show this to Mark." Amanda said as they started to file out."

"You guys go ahead." Steve said. "I have a few more inches I want to give a thorough going over."

"Okay, see you at the hospital." Amanda said.

"Just _what_ are you looking for?" Cheryl asked Steve curiously.

"A trap door or possible secret panel." Steve said. "Rich houses like this are known for having them, you know."

* * *

 **What do you think of the clue? Do you think it could tie into the murder? Will it be enough to clear Stacy? Who did it belong to?**


	14. Chapter 14 Don't Toy with Me!

Unfortunately, Steve did not find a trap door or secret panel. He searched the desk, bureau, and bookcases for any papers that might give them a solid clue, to what he wasn't sure: maybe Myra Loomis, maybe what Horace had done with the money he'd stolen...Steve just wanted _something!_ He was just heading out the front door when his eyes noticed some very small red dots on the hall rug. He knelt down and took a closer look. It looked to be very small splatters of dried blood, and a little aged too. He called the station to get a forensics team back here to analyze it.

* * *

Steve went straight for the doctor's lounge where he found Mark, Amanda, and Jessie. Jessie's little incident had been patched up. "Steve, did you find anything else of great interest?" Mark asked hopefully.

"Maybe." Steve shook his head as he sat down. "I found some small splats of blood on the rug in the lobby. It's not much, but maybe it's something."

"Maybe it's the killer's blood!" Jessie exclaimed.

"And how would the killer's blood get shed?"

"Well, I don't know." Jessie shrugged.

"Did you analyze that brooch yet, Amanda?"

"Uh-huh." Amanda replied. "And something interesting. The dried blood on it was not Horace Loomis's. It was a different type. Horace's blood type was O positive and the blood on the brooch was A negative."

"Well, at least _that_ should be able to rule out Stacy!" Jessie smiled. "Isn't her blood..."

"A negative." Mark almost whispered. Everybody's faces dropped. The eager anticipation they'd just felt had been brutally dashed.

"But, she didn't cut herself or anything at the murder scene!" Jessie persisted. "At least, I don't remember her mentioning it. Did she?"

"No." Steve gulped.

"So, that's proof...right?" Jessie asked feebly.

"That's just hearsay." Steve muttered grimly, reaching another dead end. "She could've left that part out to divert suspicion from herself." Jessie frowned angrily.

"I never thought I'd hear talk like that coming from _you_ about your own daughter, Steve." He said flatly. "You don't...you don't really believe that?" Steve glared darkly at his best friend.

"Now what kind of crack is that, Jess?" Steve growled. "Of course I don't! You know that! I'm just saying, it's how it looks...at least to Corporal Jeffers. And no matter how Captain Newman or Chief Masters see this, they... _we,_ at least Jeffers has no choice but to follow the evidence." He hated saying that, but it was true. He knew Stacy didn't do it, but how could they prove that now?

"I'm sorry, Steve." Jessie hung his head. "I didn't need to say that."

"Just forget it." Steve pursed his lips.

"You know, I don't believe Janice did it either, but it might not hurt for this doctor to make a house call!" Mark exclaimed. "Maybe at least find out what her blood type is."

"Good idea, Mark." Amanda smiled encouragingly.

"Well, the brooch may have Stacy's blood type, but she doesn't own a brooch like that one." Mark said. "And, she didn't have any cuts on her the night of the murder."

"So, that's good news, right, Steve?" Jessie asked eagerly.

"Yes and no." Steve said. "It's her blood type, but as you said, no marks to indicate that blood was drawn. I would like to hear Jeffers explain that one!" Steve spoke with a faint glimmer of hope. "I'll take it to him first chance I get."

Just then, Mark's cell phone rang and he answered it. "Doctor Mark Sloan." He greeted. "Oh, hi, Kat. What's up, sugar? No, I haven't. We were all so busy this morning, setting out on our missions that..." Mark's brows furrowed seriously, which induced concern from Steve, Jessie, and Amanda. "What kind of things? This morning? Okay, thanks." Mark dismally hung up.

"Mark, what's going on?" Amanda jumped in first.

"Kat asked if I'd seen the morning paper today. She said there's something in there about Stacy." Mark stated unhappily. Steve braced himself. "She also said that there was a conference on the news this morning that we're gonna want to see." Jessie grabbed the television remote and flipped on the TV. "Jessie, try channel four."

"Okay." Jessie nodded. The same television reporter who had been on the scene when Loomis was killed appeared on the screen as she spoke:

" _It has been almost a full week since the tragic death of one of LA's finest public pillars, Horace Loomis."_

"More like one of LA's finest public vermin." Amanda huffed with her arms crossed.

" _Police still suspect twenty-two-year-old Stacy Sloan, a former employer of Horace Loomis of this atrocious crime and it has been confirmed that she will be charged with first degree murder."_ The reporter babbled on.

"I've heard enough." Steve seethed.

" _Due to a reliable inside source, we have now learned that it was confirmed this morning that Stacy Sloan did indeed not only have a vehement fight with her supervisor the day of the murder, but she also threatened to kill him!"_

"Wait, wait, wait!" Steve exclaimed, all ears now.

"No. No, no, no, no, no." Amanda shook her head in protest.

"Where did that come from?" Jessie gaped.

"Someone who wants the public to take it as the truth." Mark said.

The reporter continued. _"On the front page of this morning's paper, I quote,_

' _ **She was so livid that if looks could kill, that alone would've been the end of Loomis. She angrily said to his face, 'You'll pay for this. If you punish me like this, I** **will** **kill you!'** " _

"That isn't true!" Amanda hollered.

"Jessie, turn that thing off!" Steve barked and his friend gladly obeyed.

Mark put on his glasses and picked up the paper. Sure enough, there was the article and he unhappily read it aloud. "Here it is." He sighed. _"I have worked with Stacy Sloan since she came to the paper four months ago. Though I have at times questioned her methods as a reporter, she's managed to hold a steady job. She has not been the easiest person to work with, but we all must make allowances."_

"I'm really starting not to like this so called source." Amanda said in disgust.

" _It's quite disheartening to have witnessed and now acknowledge that she just didn't know when to draw the line when it came to perfection. She thought she could do no wrong, and had often rubbed it in our noses every time she made a story."_

"Liar." Jessie spat. Steve didn't say a word...aloud, that is. But plenty of them were preparing for siege inside his mind. His face was hot with indignation.

Mark continued to read the article that he was deeply loathing with every new sentence. _"On the day of the murder, our supervisor, Horace Loomis asked to see Stacy about her work. He only pointed out a few needed improvements here and there, but she just flipped out. She didn't even have the decency to take him somewhere private, but_ _rose out of her chair and got in his face. She was so livid that if looks could kill, that alone would've been the end of Loomis. She angrily said to his face, 'You'll pay for this. If you punish me like this, I_ ** _will_** _kill you!' Horace Loomis, an excellent mentor whom I've come to admire since he first took me under his wing, tried to reason with her, but she would have none of it and stormed out of the work area._

' _When I heard the tragic news of his death, I was stunned beyond words. It just couldn't be! But, I suppose I'm not the wise judge of character I thought I was. It is not only hope and prayer, but also civic duty to share this information, if only to insure that justice is served and dear, grieving Mrs. Loomis, to whom we all offer our deepest condolences, will be able to live with the knowledge and reassurance that her dearly departed husband's...' "_ Mark stopped. He just couldn't read anymore of those malicious words. He set down the paper and sat dejectedly in his chair. Steve snatched up the paper and finished reading it. It crunched under his tense, clenched knuckles as he gripped it dangerously.

" _That her dearly departed husband's cruel killer will receive the justice due her!"_ Steve snarled. _"God bless the press, the land of the free and the home of the truth."_ Steve scrunched the newspaper into a crumpled ball and with a growl, tossed in the trash can. Yes, they'd heard reports spread all over the news about Stacy's arrest, but this one appeared conclusive.

"That rotten, good-for-nothing, slander mouthed cad!" Amanda growled vehemently. "I'd like to know just who this _reliable inside source_ was!"

"Oh, Steve." Mark drew in a breath. "You're not going to believe who penned that!"

" _Who?!"_ Steve glared.

"I saw the name. It was Henry Stilton." Mark stated slowly, as if the words were the name of a hopeless disease.

"What?!" Steve gasped. "Are...are you sure?"

"Positive. I saw it with my own eyes." Mark said, sadly gazing up at his son. Steve felt like he'd been slapped in the face. Henry Stilton, the very guy Stacy had complained about working with; Henry Stilton, the very guy Steve himself had teased her about having a crush on; Henry Stilton, the guy he'd jested about the night before the murder even after Stacy had objected over and over again about his so called virtues! Steve stared at the floor, a bitter sense of guilt gnawing at him. When he'd teased his daughter about this guy, the words had only been intended for fun and amusement, nothing harmful. But now, that previous lively conversation was haunting Steve. He couldn't help feeling that this slanderous piece of published garbage was his fault. And Mark completely understood that as he closely watched his son's sober manner.

"Someone should paste that guy right between the eyeballs. And if you're looking for a volunteer, I'd be happy to do it." Amanda spoke up.

"The rat." Jessie muttered. "How dare he! Who does that little stuffed shirt think he is? The DA?"

"I'd sure like to have a word with _him."_ Mark groaned.

"Yeah, well, I think I will!" Steve growled and started to walk out of the lounge. "Anyone wanna go with me?"

"I'm not back on my shift for another forty-five minutes. I'll go along." Jessie offered.

"That's fine, Jess. He _might_ need your services." Steve smirked, and Jessie returned the grin.

"I'll come along to make sure they behave themselves." Amanda said.

"Thanks, Amanda. But I don't need a babysitter." Steve muttered.

"Yes, you do. _Besides,_ if you two get into any rough-housing, I don't wanna miss it!" Amanda

chuckled. Steve grinned.

"You coming too, Dad?"

"No." Mark shook his head. "I have something else I wanna look into."

"Okay. Well, stay out of trouble."

"Who? _Me?"_

"Yeah, _you."_ Steve teased.

"Look who's talking! Now just run along, children. And have a good time." Mark smiled widely. "And, Steve?" Mark's tone went dead serious.

"Yeah?"

"Be careful, son." Mark stood up and walked to him. "Don't do anything rash. Remember that it will only cause more trouble for Stacy and we don't want that."

"I'll remember, Dad." Steve nodded then walked away. Mark watched them uneasily. He knew his son's personal grudge against harm to his loved ones, and the impact of Steve's temper. He only hoped that Steve would be effective without causing a landslide!

* * *

Steve was furious. All of those damaging words he'd been forced to digest fueled his wrath more and more. Granted, with the current circumstances he shouldn't have been surprised that gossip was publicly being spread about his daughter, but the majority of it would've been based on mere speculation and rumors. This was different. These sentences had been specifically, deliberately, stylishly typed down with purpose and that was what really ticked Steve off. He knew they were lies, but they were already out in the open now for the whole city to devour...and they would too! That Henry Stilton punk had pushed Steve's protection buttons too hard. Then a dreadful thought came to his mind and he could only hope and pray that it wasn't so: he hoped that Stacy didn't know anything about this dirt being painted on her. Steve could hardly bear it if she did. She was already in a frightening world that she didn't belong in, and this would only spice up her distress.

Steve along with his two accomplices, walked briskly and heavily into the office building of _The Los Angeles Times._ "Now, Steve? Remember to control yourself, okay?" Amanda reminded him. Steve tilted his head but didn't answer. "We don't want to cause anymore trouble for Stacy."

"You make it sound like _this_ isn't causing more trouble for her already." Steve muttered.

"Just be careful." Jessie spoke up.

"All right. All right." Steve held his hands at the reception desk, he asked to see Henry Stilton. "I'm sorry, sir, but Mr. Stilton is in conference and can't be disturbed." The receptionist answered.

"Yeah." Steve huffed. "But he's got time to write up and print lies just to poke fun doesn't he?"

"He'll resent that, sir."

"Good. I'm gonna give him plenty more to resent." Steve said in angry sarcasm as he pulled out his badge. "Lt. Sloan, LAPD. I need to talk to Henry Stilton, and I need to do it now."

"I...I'm sorry, Lt., but he's in conf..." The woman shifted in her chair and started to back away.

"Just tell us where he is." Steve said ominously.

"F...fourth floor. Door 427. But you can't go in there."

"Thank you." Steve groaned and Amanda and Jessie practically had to skip along to keep up with him. Steve was on a mission, and he was going to do whatever it took to pull aside that little, greedy paper pusher and give him a good lecture. He coldly stared straight ahead as they rode in the elevator.

"Hey, if he gets too much trouble for ya, I'd be more than happy to lend a hand." Jessie chuckled, though he would lend a hand with words rather than rough hands.

"Thanks, Jess, but I'll handle it." Steve replied. Amanda glanced over to Jessie and gave an _A-okay_ sign. Just as they entered the hallway, door 427 opened up and a group of men emerged from it and went their separate ways. The dark, curly-haired fellow with the glasses, that had to be him! He matched the description Stacy had given him the night Steve and the rest of the family had teased her about him. Steve nodded and hurried after him, with Amanda and Jessie in tow. "Excuse me! Are you Henry Stilton?" Steve asked as he caught up with him.

"That's right." The guy grinned proudly. "And you are?"

"Lt. Steve Sloan, Homicide." Steve said, showing his badge.

" _Ooohh_ _,"_ Henry said in a smooth voice. "Really? So, the big knight on the white horse Lt. Sloan, huh?" Amanda pursed her lips.

"Yeah." Steve said in an agitated voice with his hands on his hips.

"Well, well, fancy seeing you here. You know? Your family's good name is being spread right now all over the county."

"So I noticed. I need a word with you, please."

"Look, I'm sorry. See, I just got a big bonus for my latest story, and I'm afraid I won't have time for the likes of you. So, uh, why don't you just go back to chasing your jay walkers and curfew breakers?" Henry chuckled smugly and turned to go.

"Oh?" Steve raised his voice. "But you have time to whip up some pretty fancy scandal sheets and slander innocent people, now don't ya?"

"That's telling him, Steve." Jessie whispered proudly.

"Is that a threat, Lt. Sloan?" Henry faced him and smiled wickedly. "I wouldn't spend my time around here trying make trouble. In case you've noticed, I work for a pretty big company here, and I could make trouble for you very easily."

"Is that a threat, Mr. Stilton?" Amanda asked sarcastically.

"Well, then you'd better get your cylinders rolling because I have plenty to say to you, and you're gonna listen." Steve said coldly.

"Pfft. Get lost." Henry waved his hand at them in disgust and once more attempted to get back to his work area, but he felt a strong, steel like hand clench the back of his collar.

"Now listen here, bub. We can do this the easy way or the hard way." Steve growled with fire in his throat. "So, what's it gonna be, huh? We can settle this right here and now with everyone watching or somewhere private. Doesn't make any difference to me."

"Follow me." Henry huffed and Steve released him but was right on his heels.

"Think we'll get to see that again?" Jessie whispered to Amanda.

"Oh, I hope so!" Amanda replied vigorously. "Come on. I don't want to miss the fireworks."

The party walked into the work area to Henry's desk. "Hey, man. Nice job." A guy nudged Henry on the knuckles as he passed by. Steve's blood went up a by a hundred degrees as he watched the friend go about his business. Henry sat down in his desk chair and smiled proudly.

 _Oooo,_ Amanda cringed. _I'm just waiting for you to go too far, pal._

"So, what can I do for you, _Lt. Sloan?"_ Henry asked casually.

"We need to have a talk!" Steve grunted.

"I'm all ears. Fire away."

"You sure you want to do this here, with your coworkers listening?" Steve warned.

"I've got nothing to hide."

"Okay, pal. Have it your way. Actually, I don't really mind," Steve said in a know-it-all voice, "because you see, what I've got to say isn't any secret. I'm hear to discuss your latest article."

"Oh, yeah. Nice piece of work, wasn't it?" Henry grinned. Steve's esophagus was grunting belligerantly.

"Yeah. Real nice piece of work." Jessie snarled.

"Well, I read your article," Steve started in on him, "and I have a big problem with it."

"Oh, is that so?" Henry sneered.

"Yeah! _That's so!"_ Steve growled. "I found it very inaccurate." Henry shook his head, chuckling.

"You're sniffing down the wrong trail, Lt. I don't do inaccurate work."

"Take another look, little fella. You've already convicted my daughter before the trial! And by now the whole city knows it. I don't appreciate that, and I'm hear to tell you so!"

"I was just printing the facts. I just put down the way I see it." Henry stated nonchalantly.

Amanda's eyes narrowed and Jessie gritted his teeth inside his mouth. "It's already out there, so there's nothing you can do about it."

"You wrote down opinions and rumors," Steve growled again. "I'm a cop. This is _my_ case, boy, not yours! Besides, your so called facts do not match the police report. We've talked to other witnesses the day after the murder and their testimonies don't line up with yours. Yeah, the evidence is pretty open shut, _but_ it hasn't been tried in court yet and I'm sure as heck not gonna just stand around 'til I find the real killer!"

"The police already have the killer, Boy Scout." Henry sneered mercilessly. Steve stiffened, huffing heavily. He angry clenched his fists into balls.

"You could have a little more respect for the law around here, you jerk." Amanda snarled.

"Yeah!" Jessie agreed. "You think you're really something don't you, hot shot?"

"You know what I think?" Henry squinted disrespectfully up at Steve, and pointing his index finger at the detective. "I think you're a bit touchy 'cause you're too chicken and proud to admit that your stuck up brat has wandered from the straight and narrow. You're afraid it'll make you look bad on the police force. And you're jumping on me for doing my job because it's deflating your ego." That did it! Steve was livid now and without thinking, he snatched the young man out of his seat and pinned him up against the wall where Steve could face him straight in the eyes instead of gazing down at him. The other journalists and editors all gaped, wide-eyed at the scene at the far end of the room. In fact, Bob Mosher snapped up his camera and flashed pictures. Jessie stood beside Steve, tugging on his sleeve. Amanda was on Steve's other side, crossing her arms and squinting at Henry.

"Think you're a big shot, don't you, Henry? Hmm?" Steve huffed, not loosening his grip at all.

"Your big bonus was based on pure speculation and greed, and I'll not have that."

"Better back down, Lt." Henry said. "Look around you. I've got plenty of witnesses. I could have your badge tomorrow for harassment and assault of a press agent."

"Bring it on, Shorty. And I'll sue you for slander."

"It's my job. There's this new invention called Freedom of the Press. You should read it."

"I have. And it doesn't give you the right to slur innocent people's names just for fun."

"I saw what happened here in the office that day, Lt. She's as guilty as sin. She was ready to slit his throat. You can ask anyone. And It doesn't surprise me that she did. She's nothing but a louse." Henry taunted.

Steve's already boiling blood went straight up through the roof, and his knuckles went white as his vice-like hold became more like steel when he jerked the little cur closer to him. He was nose to nose now with Henry. "Now listen here, punk! And you listen good." Steve said dangerously.

"Steve..." Jessie tried to calm his friend down, but Steve ignored him.

"I'm gonna give you a piece of advice: _don't_ toy with me! You got that? If I read or hear of you spreading lies and speculative tales around about my family, I'm coming back to see you! You hear me? And lay off of my daughter! She's innocent, and you have no right to poke fun at her right now! You'll leave her alone if you know what's good for you. _Leave her alone_!"

"Freedom of the Press, Lt. Freedom of the Press." Henry sneered. Steve roughly shoved his head against the wall, then let him go. "You wrinkled my shirt." Henry whined.

"I'll wrinkle more than that if you don't watch your step, pal!" Steve bellowed, and turned to go.

"You'll be sorry, Lt." Henry grumbled. Amanda stepped over to Henry and glared at him.

"You cad." She snarled then followed her two friends.

"Thanks, Amanda." Steve grinned, huffing angrily. Amanda took his arm and giggled. Jessie trotted alongside them. All eyes were staring nervously at the trio and quickly stepped back out of their way as the detective and his friends walked briskly out.

"Sloan? Sloan!" A voice called behind them. Steve reluctantly looked behind him. It was Bob Mosher.

"What do you want?" Steve sighed, preparing for the lecture he was sure to get.

"I want you to know that I had nothing to do with that garbage Henry printed." Bob said. "He'd said that he'd fix Stacy but I didn't know exactly how."

"Yeah, I remember that." Jessie added. "I was here when he said that."

"Well, sounds like he fixed her really good." Amanda rolled her eyes.

"Have you found anything new that might be helpful?" Bob asked hopefully.

"Not much." Steve hung his head.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Bob offered.

"How about not print this incident?" Jessie suggested.

"Don't worry," Bob smiled. "I'm actually envious. I've been wanting to do that to Henry for a long time!"

"Well, a piece of advice. Do not try that at home." Steve grinned.

"My camera does my talking for me."

"Well, thanks for the encouragement." Jessie smiled.

"Any time." Bob waved to them. Becky Johnson walked in just at that moment.

"Hey, isn't that Stacy's father?" She asked Bob.

"Yep." Bob nodded.

"What's going on around here?"

"You missed it!" Bob exclaimed.

* * *

"Feel better?" Amanda asked Steve.

"Yeah." Steve smirked skeptically. "I'll tell you one thing: I'll never tease my girls again about _any_ guy that they say they don't like!"

"Why didn't you let me take a poke at him?" Jessie whined.

" _Jessie,_ you had plenty of opportunity and motive right there." Amanda rolled her eyes. 'But to be honest, I just can't see you doing that. You're just not the type."

"Well, thanks for letting me come along, Steve." Jessie smiled. "I wouldn't want to miss out on the fun!" Steve shook his head.

"You're welcome, Shorty." Steve said dryly. Jessie halted and gaped.

"But I really hope you don't get in trouble for this, Steve." Jessie said nervously. "Maybe you shouldn't have grabbed him like that."

"You know? Stacy was right." Steve spoke up, changing the subject.

"About what?" Amanda cocked her head curiously.

"Stilton really _is_ a pill."


	15. Chapter 15 Harrassment

**I finally did some research, so I hope this story is improving. I also made some more alterations to one of my previous chapters. I may have to make others down the road again.**

* * *

The next time that Kat visited her sister, she was dismayed at the change in Stacy. She looked wretched in physical appearance, but also though she tried to keep up her natural optimism, Kat could sense Stacy's anxiety. She tried to encourage her but had seen the dread on her face when their visit had ended. Kat had been quiet most of the rest of the day. At the moment, her job hunting didn't feel important. After some of the things Stacy had told her about inmate life, Kat felt a sense of guilt. She had told her friend Carlie that she wasn't very worried about the situation-though she didn't like it at all-but, now that was different. Kat knew that jail life was rough, but seeing her sister produced the way she was as some of the fruit of life as an inmate brought it into a whole new light for her. She hadn't known in depth that it could be that ugly, and now she felt even worse for her sister. Well, this would definitely do wonders for her prayer life! She'd explained her feelings to Mark when he'd noticed she'd been in deep thought. "I just feel so bad now," Kat hung her head. "Thinking it wasn't too awful. I thought since her sentence wasn't like yours, since she was in a local joint, that it wouldn't be so rough. But I was wrong, and now I feel so awful thinking Stacy had it easier than other prisoners." She said mournfully.

"Aww, Sweetie. You didn't know." Mark said tenderly, pulling her close to him on the couch. "No, being in jail isn't fun, for anybody. And, some do have it worse than others. But it's not like sitting in detention at school. It's much harsher."

"I see that now." Kat moaned.

"But, Kat, honey. It's not your dad's fault. His job is to make sure that those criminals realize the error of their ways and don't end up back in there."

"I never once thought it was his fault." Kat cried. "If only some people would learn their lessons!"

"I know." Mark agreed solemnly. "I know!"

Kat prayed even harder after that, for Stacy, for her dad, for all of them and that the case would be solved soon, with the truth exposed!

* * *

Stacy was grateful that Marsha Harring was absent from their cell for a while, so she could have some peace and quiet. Stacy had been assigned to record-keeping as an inmate job, but today she hadn't. However, a few other female prisoners were being led down the hall and they halted in front of Stacy's cell. She glanced at them out of the corner of her eye then stared at the floor. "Your big daddy can't save you now, you whelp." One of them said. Stacy tried to ignore them but their words stung.

"Miss High and Mighty wanders off the straight and narrow, breaks daddy's heart and now you get to rot away to garbage with all the rest of us." Another sneered. "You're exactly where you belong. We're really happy to have you here."

"Yeah, little Miss Know-it-all." The third said. "How do you like this?" She reached into her outfit, pulling out a small lead pipe, and directly tossed it through the bars straight at Stacy! It hit the side of her face but immediately dropped to the floor and she flopped onto her bed. The guards grabbed the women and pulled them away.

Stacy winced at the sudden, heavy blow and raised her hand to her cheek to try to soothe the bruise she could feel covering her face. She gnawed with her mouth to remove the feeling of jarred teeth. She reached into her mouth to check and pulled her hand out but there was no blood, yet she moved as far back as she could into the wall on her bed. She wanted to cry, but no tears would come out. The pain was slowly starting to subside, but her right cheek was feeling puffy, and the pain she had to swallow from being so roughly treated hurt more than the blow she'd received. She walked to her door and tried to call out to a guard. "Sir!" She called. "Sir, please help me. They hurt me and I need..." But the guard didn't even look at Stacy...he just kept walking as if he was deaf. "Sir! Please! I..." Stacy retreated back to the bed and lay down. She'd forgotten: in this place, she had no rights. In this place it was live and let live. Very small tears came out of her eyes. If this had happened on the street, Mark would've given her an ice pack for her hurt face and Steve would've wanted every detail of the fiend who had done it. But that kind of life was at home. Home: a place of safety, understanding, teasing and disagreements yes, but most of all and nonetheless, love and care. But here? Here was a cold, dreary, isolated place where those virtues didn't exist. Or if they did, they were nearly impossible to find except up at the surface...where her father was, where her dad Steve existed.

Time in the mess hall was becoming a dread. The other day, three of the female inmates had stolen Stacy's food and she didn't get anything to eat until dinner that night. Today at lunch, several of them had picked up their plates and thrown food at Stacy. She'd begged them to stop, but they only gathered around more, laughing at her and tossing their chow more vigorously. It was getting to the point that Stacy wasn't sure what was about to happen almost any time she was in population.

Stacy's charge and accusation for first degree murder didn't matter to the inmates who bullied her. A murder charge of her boss? That was nothing. What crimes she had committed in their eyes that gave them validation to harass her was they'd seen her from time to time when she looked like she was praying to God, so they wanted to see just how far she would go in "turning the other cheek". She hadn't shared her faith with anyone but they'd also seen her reading the Bible she'd bought with the money account her family was helping to fill. But even bigger to many of them, the fact that Stacy was the daughter of the famous, intelligent cop who'd busted many of them and they didn't regret the crimes they'd committed, _that_ was what made them gloat so hard in choosing to make her life as miserable as possible. The two combinations were too irresistible for them to resist.

* * *

"Mommy?" CJ asked at the dinner table.

"Yes, honey?" Amanda looked at him.

"Is Stacy gonna be out of jail soon?" He asked eagerly. Amanda's face fell but she didn't want to alarm her boys.

"I hope so, CJ. I really hope so." Amanda sighed heavily.

"Why is she in there in the first place? She didn't do anything wrong." Dion stated defensively.

"You're right Dion, she didn't!" Amanda agreed. "But someone did something wrong and Stacy got in trouble for it."

"You mean like when Tony at school spray-painted the lockers, and he said that me and Adam did it?" CJ asked.

"Yes, darling." Amanda nodded. "That didn't make you feel very good, did it?"

"No! It sure didn't!" CJ shook his head. Dion just listened. "The principal talked to us and made us clean it up, until Tony got caught." Dion had gotten in big trouble multiple times before at his foster home, but for no reason. He was glad that CJ had gotten off easily with something as simple as washing off paint instead of being beaten!

"I remember that, son." Amanda said wistfully. "Only, with Stacy it's different. She's gotten in trouble for something very, very bad and so she's being punished."

"When will Uncle Steve catch the person who did it?" Dion finally spoke up.

"I'm not sure, Dion." Amanda said sadly. "But he's working very hard to find that person soon."

"Mommy, do you think Stacy's sad?" CJ added.

"Oh, very much." Amanda bit her lip. "And she's probably very scared too. You see, she misses her home, and her family with Mark, Uncle Steve, Kat, and all of us. And it makes her very sad that she can't be with us."

"I miss her." CJ moaned.

"Me too." Dion mumbled.

"So do I." Amanda added. "And that's why we need to keep praying that God will set her free from jail from very soon."

* * *

 **Bedtime**

"Mommy?" CJ chimed again as Amanda tucked him in.

"Yes, darling?" She asked.

"You told us that all the stories in the Bible are true."

"That's right."

"You remember the story you told us of when Peter was in jail, but he didn't do anything wrong? And they were gonna kill him?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"But his friends prayed and an angel went to the jail that night and got Peter out?"

"Yes."

"Why doesn't God just do that?" CJ asked. Amanda bit her lip again. She wondered that very question herself but had no satisfactory answers. "Has He forgotten how?"

"Yeah." Dion spoke up. "If He's so loving and good, why doesn't He just get Stacy out of jail, Mom? She didn't do anything wrong. Why is she in trouble?"

Amanda gazed thoughtfully at both her boys. These were hard questions. Also, it wasn't the first time Dion had asked ones like that. He'd often wondered why God had let him suffer if He was as kind and loving as everyone said. Amanda wished she could believe the simple answers she'd told them over and over again, but life had a way of watering down the truth of reality as people became adults. Never as simple anymore as when they were the ages of CJ and Dion. Amanda silently prayed for the right words. "I don't know, boys." She shook her head. "I really don't."

"Maybe He doesn't love Stacy anymore." Dion said coldly.

"Oh, no! No, no, no, darling it isn't that at all!" Amanda argued. "God loves us all. But sometimes, bad things still happen. And sometimes, unfortunately, they happen to good people."

"It's not fair." CJ huffed.

"You're right, son. It _isn't_ fair." Amanda totally agreed. "It wasn't fair for Jesus when He was arrested, and He got in trouble for bad things that other people did. But if He hadn't been arrested, we'd never be able to have a close relationship with Him, like you two do with Mommy. And you remember Romans 8:28?"

"No." Both boys shook their heads.

"Well, let me show you." Amanda smiled. She briefly left then returned with her Bible. "See, right here." She read: _"And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose."_

"What does that mean?" Dion asked confused.

"It means that even when bad things happen, that God knows what's going on, and He has something good He plans to show us when all the bad stuff goes away." Amanda explained. The boys stared at her, confused. "Okay, uh, let me try to tell you this way. You know how sometimes you get sick, and sometimes when that happens, you need to get a shot?" CJ's and Dion's eyes widened as they nodded.

"Yeah, and they hurt!" CJ exclaimed.

"Yes, they _do_ hurt. But how come you get shots when you're sick?"

"You always say it will help us feel better."

"Right." Amanda smiled. "But you don't always feel better right away, do you?" The boys shook their heads. "Well, that's kind of what it's like when bad things like what's happening to Stacy happen. I don't know why she had to be in trouble for this, but God knows what happened, and if we keep praying, He'll show us who really did it so that person can be punished instead."

"And Uncle Steve will arrest him?" CJ's eyes lit up.

"Yes. But right now God hasn't shown us who it is yet. We have learned that the man Stacy got in trouble for killing was a bad man. Why she had to get punished for something she didn't do, I don't know. But...it's kind of like when we watch movies together. Sometimes sad things happen in the movie, but if we just turn it off, we don't get to see how the story ends. And most movies always have a happy ending, if we watch the movie all the way, right?" Amanda sighed, relief flowing through her body.

"So, God _will_ get Stacy out of jail, it's just that the movie of this story isn't over yet?" CJ raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, dear."

"Mom, you said that Stacy's sad and scared. I don't want her to be sad and scared, it makes me sad too." CJ stated and Amanda stared at him compassionately. "Mommy, can I write Stacy a letter, and tell her not be sad or scared? And can I tell her that we miss her, and that God will help her, but the movie's not over yet?"

"You most certainly may!" Amanda smiled widely and hugged him. "I think that's a wonderful idea, CJ."

"Can I too, Mom?" Dion asked hesitantly.

"Yes, Dion. You can both write a letter for Stacy and I'll see that we mail it to her." Amanda said, warmth shining on her face.

* * *

As Stacy took her turn in line for the mail, she was handed two envelopes. "Thank you." She whispered. As she could see, they'd already been opened, as was the custom in jail for the officers in charge of the inmates' mail. She waited until she was back in her cell to read them, but before she could even pull out the letters, a hand appeared out of nowhere and snatched them from her. Stacy looked up and saw Marsha Harring opening up and reading _Stacy's_ private letters! "Th-those are mine!" Stacy protested sadly and angrily. "Give them back to me! Please!" Marsha sneered.

" _Dear Stacy,"_ She said in mockery. _"I'm so sorry that you're in jail. I miss you..."_ Marsha read every word aloud and every time Stacy reached for the letters and tried to grab them, Marsha reared her arm back or just kept shoving her on the floor. After reading both of them all the way through, she crumpled them and tossed them on the floor at Stacy's feet. "That's a bunch of mush. Runny-nosed kids, spoiled brats who don't know any better."

Stacy's face grew hot with anger. _"They are_ _not!"_ She growled under her breath.

"Well, enjoy your news from the outside world." Marsha said casually. "I for one, want some culture." Marsha turned on the radio very loud and lounged on her bunk.

Stacy stared at her, flabbergasted at the coldness of her attitude. She picked up her precious, crumpled paper and, leaning as close to the wall as she could with her back toward Marsha, tried to smooth out and make out the words on the papers. Tears pushed behind her eyes she recognized the boys' familiar, youthful handwriting. Seeing something so dear slightly made her feel like someone she loved had snuck into here from the outside world and was visiting her. CJ's and Dion's words were sweet, encouraging, and full of love. Stacy read the letters over and over again. Then she looked closely and saw Amanda's lovely scrolled signature at the bottom of each paper. Amanda's notes said, _"You are not forgotten,"_ and _"God will see you through this!"_ Stacy clutched the papers close to her. How she missed all of her family, missed being free to decided how she was going to spend her free time in the day, missed piecing together the ideas and facts for her next stories, missed the mystery talk of Mark, Steve, Jessie, and Amanda trying to solve murder cases. It felt like they were all another whole world away. Figuratively speaking, they were. And Stacy wondered if she would ever get to experience that again!

* * *

"Hey, don't I get a hug and a kiss?" Jessie asked with open arms. Stacy turned around and smiled at her good friend. She ran eagerly to him and hugged him.

"Jessie! Oh, it's sooo good to see you." Stacy smiled. "How did you get in here?"

"Your dad got me in of course."

"You have no idea how wonderful it is to see a friendly face. And yours definitely brightened my day." She inhaled deeply of the scent of _BBQ Bob's_ she could smell on him. It made her stomach growl loudly and her mouth water. She guessed he must have just left from his shift at the restaurant.

"Aw, I thought you could use some company," Jessie replied. "Hey, you all right? You don't look too good." Jessie took into account how exhausted she appeared.

"Well," Stacy shrugged. "Did you expect me to?"

"Not really." Jessie shook his head. He frowned as he noticed the faint but colorful bruise on the side of her face. "Hey!" He huffed. "What's this?" He asked seriously, her chin between his fingers. Stacy shook her head.

"It's not as bad as it was." She sighed. "It happened a few days ago."

"I'm gonna tell Steve about this!" Jessie growled. He knew that these things could happen between inmates, but he was appalled that it was happening to someone dear to him that he cared deeply about. It made his blood boil. "He won't be happy."

"Jessie..." Stacy shook her head. "I don't think he can do anything about it."

"Aww, Stace." Jessie grimaced. "I'm so sorry this happened. Did your cell mate do that to you?"

" _No."_ Stacy muttered. "It wasn't _her._ That's too easy. Not her style. She likes to use words as weapons."

"Did they hurt you anywhere else?"

"No. No, they didn't."

"Stace, Steve needs to know about this." Jessie said firmly. Stacy slightly nodded.

"It doesn't really matter _who_ did it." She spoke in resignation.

"Well, I'm gonna see that your dad knows! I can tell that you're not doing well in here." Jessie said, a little softer."I've seen you look much better than this before. You getting enough sleep?"

"Honestly, do you have to ask?" Stacy remarked half in sarcasm, half in exasperation. "What do you think?"

"I think you need something bright to think about." Jessie grinned, sticking his hand into his plaid button-up shirt. Stacy watched as he pulled out a brown paper bag. "Here you go." Jessie smiled warmly.

"Oh, Jessie." Stacy moaned. She felt like she was going to cry. "Did you bring me _BBQ Bob's?_ You shouldn't have!"

"Yeah." Jessie beamed. "I know the grub here can be lousy, and I figured you were probably tired of it by now. So, I decided to bring you some real food." Small tears formed in Stacy's eyes.

"T-thank you." She said sadly. "That was so nice of you, Jessie, and you don't know how much I'd like to scarf it down! But I can't take it!"

"Sure you can. Here, dig in."

"Jessie, won't you get in trouble for this?" Stacy asked worriedly. "How did you manage to sneak this in here? I want it. I really, really do! But if they find out you did this, you'll be in trouble!"

"Heck, don't worry about me." Jessie shrugged. "Besides, your dad can give me clearance."

"Did he tell you it was okay?"

"No, but he will."

"Jessie, as much as I want to, I can't have it." Stacy shook her head sadly.

"Aw, come on." Jessie argued. "Look, if I get in trouble, it'll be taken care of. Don't worry. Please, Stace." Jessie begged."Look, I came all the way over here to pay you a visit. And I made your favorite, especially for you! Honest, it's gonna hurt my feelings if you let it go to waste. _Please?"_ He put up his best little boy pout face.

"You sure it'll be okay?" Stacy asked nervously.

"Yeah! Come on. Eat up, girl. You need some meat on your bones." Jessie grinned.

"Jessie, I'm really sorry." Stacy gulped. She wanted the food badly, but Jessie could get in real trouble, and so could she! "But, we'll both get in trouble! And I don't want that to happen! Do you?"

"No." Jessie moaned, his shoulders sagging at his friend's refusal of his generosity. It hurt his feelings after how excited he'd been to see her eyes light up when she saw it. But, she was right, and it angered Jessie.

"Thank you, Jessie. It was so kind of you. I really do appreciate the thought!" Stacy sadly smiled. "B-but...if you got caught, they might not let you come back to see me!"

"It's okay. I understand." Jessie muttered, his tone coming out more edgy than he intended.

Stacy bit her lip. Jessie had risked a lot doing this gesture for her, but it wasn't worth it. She gladly forgone it if only it would insure that Jessie wouldn't be banned from visiting her, and that she wouldn't get in trouble. She had an uncomfortable, guilty feeling in her stomach, seeing the hurt look on his face. "I'm sorry, Jessie. Really I am. But..."

"No, I understand. _Really."_ Jessie gazed at her thoughtfully.

"So...so, how is the BBQ business going? How are things at the hospital?" Stacy asked, trying to change the subject. As Jessie informed her of normal life outside of the jail, Stacy longed with all her heart to be back there: at BBQ Bob's, at Community General, at her workplace, at the beach house-home!-. She'd rather be anywhere right now than here!

Jessie shared some encouraging Bible verses with her and after spending some more time together, he reluctantly said good-bye. He hated leaving his friend, his 'niece'. He could see in her face the same helplessness, fear, and longing that he'd worn when he had been in this place a little over seven years ago. It tore at his heart. "Cheer up, Stace." He tried to say cheerfully. "Things are moving along. We'll find the killer soon, and you'll be back home."

"I hope so!" Stacy gulped as tears started to come out of her eyes.

"Hey, I _know."_ Jessie said. "Believe me, I know how hard it is."

"Yeah." Stacy nodded, trying to wipe her eyes but it was useless.

"Come here." Jessie said sympathetically, with arms out. Stacy came to him and relished in his friendly hug. She didn't want to let go. She didn't want him to leave...without her!

"Hey, do you know when Dad will be back here?" She asked.

"He said he will be here tonight." Jessie answered.

"Okay." Stacy responded, hoping nothing would prevent her from seeing her dad. "Thanks. And, thank you for coming to see me, Jessie. It means a lot to me."

"I understand." He nodded. "Hey, you'll get out of this place. We'll get you back, okay?"

"That's what I keep praying for." Stacy whispered.

"Yeah, us too. Well, I gotta go. Hang in there. And I promise to have a full combo of this waiting just for you when you get out!" Jessie gave her one last smile and walked out the door. Stacy squeezed her eyes shut and let the tears fall. She hadn't been able to cry for a while. This was the only room in the jail where she felt free to. Jessie's perky visit had been such a blessing, but it was over now. And when would she see him again? When would she see home again? _Would_ she see home again?

* * *

As Corporal Jeffers escorted Stacy away from the room and Jessie attempted to head out of the place, he was stopped by Cheryl. "Dr. Travis." She said firmly. Jessie froze. He was upset right now and wanted to quickly get out of here so he could talk to Steve, but he also realized that he was visibly carrying the brown paper bag in his hand! He almost didn't really care about that though.

"Yes?" He asked in an irritated tone.

"All finished with your visit, I see." Cheryl remarked with her hands on her hips.

"Yeah. I am." Jessie huffed. "And I'm in a hurry. I...need to get back to work. So...if you'll excuse me." He started to go but Cheryl gripped his arm.

"What's this?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Uh..." Jessie gulped. "Uh...it's for Steve! But he's obviously not at his desk. Would, uh...would you see that he gets it?" He handed it to her. Cheryl opened it and looked inside.

"This hasn't been touched." She said.

"I _told you."_ Jessie said firmly. "It's for Steve! So, yeah, I didn't pick at it before giving it to him! Now, if you don't mind, I really need to go!"

"You know I should report this, don't you?" Cheryl eyed the young doctor seriously. Jessie rolled his eyes and set his jaw, facing her. She had obviously seen through his coverup and had been able to read his intentions of this visit. Cheryl was a friend of Steve's, and she and Jessie knew each other. He felt he had to say something.

"Do what you have to." He muttered. "But as you can see, it _hasn't_ been nibbled on. My friend was too worried about me to accept it in person. So that's why I have to leave it on his desk." Cheryl slightly smiled. She knew exactly what he'd been up to. "And while we're on the subject, did you know about Stacy getting beat up?"

"What?" Cheryl gaped.

"You didn't see it? She has a nice bruise on her face the size of Nevada." Jessie seethed. "She says that's all, but I wouldn't be too sure."

"You know we can't control everything the inmates do here." Cheryl sighed, though she truly felt bad at hearing this news.

"Yeah? Well, how do you think it's gonna make Steve feel? Hmm?" Jessie growled.

"Travis, we're doing the best we can under the circumstances."

"Well, to me it looks like that's just not good enough. How do you think Steve's gonna react when he sees his daughter like this?"

"Travis, we aren't the ones who hit her."

"I know." Jessie pursed his lips. "It just really gets under my skin! She's innocent, Cheryl! You believe that, don't you?"

"What I believe and what I can prove are two different things."

"That doesn't answer my question. Steve's not gonna be happy about this, you know."

"I know he's not."

"And I don't blame him one bit! Have you gotten a good look at her lately? She's a wreck. She's rotting in here. She needs to be with her family!" Jessie exclaimed.

"Travis, listen to me! I feel bad about this. Believe me, I do. But I have a job to do, and whether I hate it or love it, I have to do it. Do you think we enjoy seeing and knowing about these things in here? We don't! It's a rotten mess, and sometimes we just loathe the demands that are required of us. But, if we don't, some of these cons could end up back in here worse than before." Cheryl explained. "You don't enjoy telling the parents of a small child that their beloved kid was instantly killed by a drunk driver...do you? It kills you to see a terminally ill patient return for more treatment when you know it's not really gonna do much good or save their life, doesn't it?" Jessie was quiet and sighed heavily. "Nothing would make me happier right now than to see Steve be able to take his daughter home, released and with a clean record. I have to watch him here every day and see how this mess is eating at his gut. It's not pretty, and if I could make it go away, I would without a moment's hesitation. But I can't. You don't know how much I wish I could! Do you understand?"

"Yes. I do. I _really_ do." Jessie said solemnly. "I'm sorry. It just makes me so darn frustrated not being able to do more to bring this case to an end!"

"I know." Cheryl agreed. "Well, as you said, you need to go."

"Thanks." Jessie gulped and started to walk away.

"Oh, and, Travis?"

"Yeah?" Jessie looked back at her.

"I won't say anything about this." Cheryl said, holding up the brown paper bag. "But, don't you even think of trying it again!"

"Thanks." Jessie nodded and departed. He glumly drove away in his car. He'd really hoped to cheer Stacy up, but it had resulted in her becoming fearful for the both of them. What had he been thinking? How could he have believed that he could sneak the food in there to her, undetectable and with a clean slate? How could he have made such a ridiculous choice, which could've resulted in making things more painful for his friend? Jessie inwardly kicked himself for being so careless. As much as he'd wanted to take out his frustration on someone at the precinct in authority, he knew Cheryl was right: her hands were tied. And all he, Mark, Steve, Amanda, and Kat could do was continue doing what they were doing. So far, all the clues had been interesting, but still kept leading to dead ends. Where was this Myra Loomis? As universally hated as Horace Loomis had been, who had had the nerve or anger to go far enough as ending the roach's life? Jessie had no answers, but man, how he wished they did! He hated to think of Stacy being attacked in jail, and desperately prayed for her safety, and not just physical safety! If it happened once, it could happen again. And...and if it did happen again, it could end much worse!


	16. Chapter 16 A Dagger

Jessie returned to work with an unsettled mind. He tried to focus on his rounds that had caught up since he'd visited the jail, but it was difficult. "Hey, Jessie!" A young voice spoke behind him. Jessie turned and smiled.

"Hey, Alex! When did you get back?" Jessie shook the hand of one of their favorite interns. "How was Denver?"

"Ohh, very informative." Alex Smith blew out a breath. "I was honored that Dr. Wesley invited me to attend that Medical Conference with her, but, hey, it's good to be back!"

"Good to have you back." Jessie nodded. "We could use some good news around here." He muttered, hanging his head.

"What's going on, Jess?" Alex asked curiously. "How's Dr. Sloan? How is everybody? Is anything wrong?"

"We're all okay, for the most part." Jessie sighed.

"Come on, Jessie. What's the matter?"

"Haven't you heard?" Jessie asked bluntly.

"Heard what?" Alex shrugged.

"Stacy Sloan has been arrested and she's sitting in jail right now being charged for murder!" Jessie seethed. Alex's eyes widened.

"What?" He gaped. "Are you serious?"

"Would I joke about something like that?" Jessie huffed.

"Oh, man." Alex shook his head. "That's horrible. Look, Jess, I'm sorry. I'm afraid I was more concerned with my notes and impressing Dr. Wesley with what I learned at the conference that I didn't pay much attention to the news."

"You know, that might be a good thing." Jessie said. "Look, I'm sorry, Alex. You just got back from a good trip. You didn't deserve a welcome back like that. Sorry."

"It's okay. Uh, how does the case look for Stacy?"

"Not good right now." Jessie gulped.

"Oh. That's tough." Then Alex cleared his throat. "Well, uh? Do you have any patients to turn over to me?" Jessie's face cheered up a little.

"Please, yes." He smiled, handing Alex a handful of charts. "I think your patients really missed you and right now I think they'd like to see you more than me. To be honest, I do have something else important I have to tend to."

* * *

"Hey, Doctor Sloan!" Alex Smith trotted excitedly behind Mark. Mark turned and smiled.

"Alex! Good to see you back. How did you like your conference?" Mark asked.

"Glad I went." Alex answered. "I, uh, my hand is all stiff from jotting down notes."

"I just talked to Dr. Wesley." Mark chuckled. "I must say, she was very impressed with your attentiveness."

"Whoa, that's a relief!" Alex smiled then grew serious. "Hey, I'm really sorry to hear about Stacy."

"Thanks, Alex." Mark hung his head.

"How is Steve taking it?"

"Not good at all." Mark said dismally.

"How about Kat?"

"Well, Kat...she's holding out as best she can. Right now she's trying to find another job. I think that helps distract her."

"Mmm. Is there anything I can do for you guys?" Alex offered eagerly.

"Just be a friend, Alex." Mark sighed. "Thank you. And welcome back." Alex smiled and walked to visit his patients. Just then, Steve walked up to Mark. "Steve, have you found anything?"

"Not much." Steve grumbled, handing his dad a manila envelope. "At least not much to clear Stacy with." Mark pulled out sheets of paper from the envelope. "Seems that Horace Loomis weaseled money out of a lot more people than just the ones at Bannerman Construction. There was a lawsuit from the bank he held shares in, in Las Vegas where he was before he moved here. That was four years ago. He foreclosed on several people, but the catch is that the money from those foreclosures never entered the bank's vault. After investigating around, the bank suspected Horace Loomis of stealing it. They took it to court, but couldn't prove it. He was a big shareholder in companies after all. He had the money to clear himself, and they didn't have the money to prosecute further, plus they didn't have any concrete way to tie him to the missing money."

Mark whistled. "No wonder Scott Beady guarded those papers with a gun! You know, Steve," he removed his glasses, "if Horace Loomis was the kind of thief everyone says he was, then he had to have hidden that money somewhere!"

"Just one thing, Dad." Steve groaned. "He has no foreign bank accounts. We've gone through his local and the ones from when he lived in Vegas, but nothing indicates extra money than what he already had. Maybe Janice would know."

"I don't think so, Steve." Mark disagreed. "When she told me about him, as disgusted as she was, if there had been anymore dirt to put on him I believe she would've told me."

"Maybe she wanted all the money for herself."

"When she was getting only one fourth of the estate? No, Steve. All she wants is to get the estate settled and leave this city. Did you do a background check on her?"

"Yeah. Nothing to raise any red flags. I just...I just wish we could find _something_ that would put Stacy in the clear!"

"What about Myra Loomis? Any leads on her?" Mark asked hopefully.

"Nope." Steve shook his head. "She was married to Loomis when he was in Vegas, but after the lawsuit, she just disappeared. She didn't move with him, and she didn't have her personal money accounts or anything transferred. She just completely pulled up stakes and vanished."

"Mph!" Mark bit his lip. "Surely someone knew where she was going."

"We took a closer look at the records of the money Loomis was paying to her. Guess what? No address!"

"Horace Loomis must have been writing a lot of checks right out of his pockets."

"Yeah." Steve pursed his lips.

"What are these?" Mark asked as he pulled some photos out of the envelope.

"Only the young lady that Janice Loomis's PI saw Horace with and identified her as Stacy." Steve rolled his eyes. "Young guy, but he did his work."

"Mph. A similar resemblance." Mark noted. "But you and I can tell that it's not Stacy."

"Mmm-hmm." Steve grunted.

"I'm afraid though that Janice Loomis's private investigator is not a very observant young man." Mark stated and Steve's ears perked up. "Look at that: she has a diamond ring on her ring finger. And..."

"And what?" Steve prodded.

"Steve, could you have these blown up? I want to get a closer look at the details in these. Maybe we'll find something!"

"You've got it!" Steve answered. Just then, Jessie rushed up to them.

"Steve, I need to talk to you." He panted.

* * *

Steve, flustered from the news Jessie had given him, marched brusquely into the precinct with a determined countenance. He knew that prison inmates did commit those kinds of bullying and harassing inside the joint, but...not with his daughter! She was not to be troubled like that, period. And if it happened this way, it could happen again, and maybe next time even worse! But Steve was determined that there wouldn't be a next time. Steve was about to approach the administrator's office when Sgt. Barnes caught up to him. "Lt.?" He asked.

"Not now, Drew. I have something I have to do." Steve said angrily.

"The captain wants you in his office...now!" Barnes stared at him timidly. Steve glared at his coworker. He wanted to see Stacy, make sure she was okay, and set up an extra guard in population so his daughter wouldn't be such an easy target for loose running felons.

"He's gonna have to wait." Steve growled.

"No," Barnes shook his head. "He says now! He's been waiting for you. He told me to fetch you the minute you got here." Steve's shoulders bristled.

"All right." He huffed and very begrudgingly stepped in the direction of his superior's office. "You sent for me, Sir?" He asked gruffly as he entered.

"Yes!" Captain Newman groaned, quickly rising from his seat. "Shut the door." Steve threw the door closed behind him. "I need a word with you, Sloan."

"I'm listening." Steve said impatiently. It was plain to see that Newman was ticked off about something.

"I warned you, Sloan!" Newman vented. "I told you, you step out of line once and you're off this case. Or did you not hear that part?"

"I did." Steve nodded, fighting to control his tongue.

"What did you expect to accomplish by harassing a citizen? Hmm?! I received a visit today from Henry Stilton. Name ring a bell?" Newman glared. Steve bit his lip. "I'll tell you what he came to see me for. He's filing a lawsuit against the department, for bullying and intimidating a fellow citizen without justification. And being a reporter, you know as well as I do that he can twist our words enough to make it stick!"

"That's ridiculous." Steve spat.

"Is it? Take a look at this!" Newman growled, shoving the newspaper into Steve's hands. "He implies that he was aggressively approached and threatened by a police officer, who claims that Stilton was committing malfeasance. He says _you_ attacked him, _Sloan! And he has plenty of witnesses!"_ Steve glowered as he read the paper. Henry Stilton had certainly made it look like Steve had unjustly threatened him, and making himself out as innocent bystander. The words in the article were eloquent and very well noted.

"This is my fault, Sir." Steve groaned.

"You're darn right it is!" Newman threw his glasses onto his desk and placed his hands on his hips.

"But I didn't attack him. I merely told him not to print lies that would slander innocent people. He wrote a false report about Stacy, identifying her as the killer. And his reports did not line up with any of ours, including the other witnesses we questioned. And, maybe I did wrinkle his shirt a little..."

"Oh, that's just great!" Newman threw his arms up in exasperation. "Just what I need!" He rubbed his temples. Steve stood still, bracing himself for the chewing out."You know? We were right about you, Sloan." Captain Newman groaned. "This case is too personal for you to handle. I'm pulling you off the case, as of right now."

Steve felt his blood run cold. He felt as if he'd been kicked in the guts. "I don't care what you say, Sir. I will NOT step away..." But his captain cut him off.

"Then I think it's best for you not to have the customary visits with your daughter, Lt. If you truly want to solve this case properly and without any more incriminations. You can't possibly focus on the facts when you have your mind on her at the same time. You know the system doesn't work that way. Did you really think your actions would help your daughter? Now either I suspend you, or you forgo the visits to give yourself a clear mind. Take your choice."

"Not happening!" Steve snarled. He could not believe what he was hearing!

"Look, Steve. I'm trying to help you." Newman said a little more calmly. "But we've been watching you and you've been very irritable and easily provoked, especially around here."

"Can you blame me?" Steve asked angrily.

"No. I can honestly say I don't. But, Lt., I honestly think this is what's best for you, _if_ you intend to remain on this case. You're gonna have to decide."

Steve could not believe his ears! Had his boss really just said that?! If Newman was trying to do what was best for Steve and Stacy with this decision, right now Steve didn't want to see it that way. How could this turn out so cruelly? He felt like he was back in time on the night of the murder, when the chief had told him to go home. Stacy needed him, and surely she would rot emotionally in jail beyond help if he abandoned her! Yet, he didn't trust Jeffers, with his current mindset, to solve this case to the truth. Jeffers would screw it up and most likely get Stacy convicted of first degree murder. And there was no way Steve was about to let that happen! Yes, his daughter badly needed him, but which way could he actually help her more: with his presence or finding the truth and proving it? The trial was in two weeks, and they were running out of time to clear Stacy! It would be cruel to not visit her, not to reassure her with his presence, and Steve would feel as if he'd stabbed her in the heart. Yet, the more he thought about it, the stronger he felt that he couldn't possibly leave this case in other hands. If he chose the alternative, Mark could still visit Stacy and comfort her. Steve hated himself for what he was about to do, it was a brutal decision and it made him feel sick, but he firmly snarled, "You can have me suspended, Sir, You can say what you like. But no matter what you do, I am _not_ walking away from this case! I can't. You won't keep me from closing it! My daughter is innocent! Somewhere out there is the real killer who framed her, and I'm going to find him."

"It's your choice, Sloan." Newman sighed. "You know the sensible thing for me to do is take you off this homicide, don't you?" He asked seriously, gazing at Steve. Steve just bit his lip. "All right. You made your choice. Your father will be permitted to still have visits with your daughter, but you are not to. Do I make myself clear?" Steve just darkly stared back at him. "And I want you to go home right now for the rest of the day and not think about this. You need some leisure time to gain your senses back. I'm sorry, Lt. Close the door on your way out." Steve glared and brusquely walked out, angry and disappointed.

* * *

"Now, I'm just pointing out, it _is just possible,"_ Jeffers said nervously, "that she made up this whole story about the victims to divert suspicion from herself." He wasn't trying to be narrow-minded, it was just that he'd seen this type of thing before, where a steady cop's own children went down the wrong road but the person sworn to uphold the law refused to admit the truth. That is what he honestly believed was happening to Steve, and he honestly didn't feel good about it himself.

"You'd have to be pretty imaginative to come up with something like that." Chief Masters interjected.

"Well? I mean..." Jeffers was cut off when he turned his head and saw...Steve standing in the doorway. Jeffers was a gruff cop, but even he suddenly felt small from that steely cold, heavy air in the room from Steve's offended presence. The tall detective just stood there, his face dark and inflexible and his stance very imposing. He'd come in here to request an extra guard in population so Stacy would possibly not get hurt again, but those thoughts left him now. Apparently, Steve had heard what had been said.

"Sloan, we have to explore the possibility." Masters spoke up. "It's our job." Steve breathed heavily through his nose.

"So, that's where you're going?" He snarled. "So, that's your honest opinion? You think my daughter made the whole thing up?"

"I'm _saying..."_ Jeffers grunted defensively. "I'm just saying it's possible!" Steve gritted his teeth.

"But it explains why someone other than Stacy would want Loomis dead."

"Yeah, but no means or opportunity."

"How do _you_ know?" Steve argued. "I know of a case where a blind sculptor nearly pulled off the perfect murder where no one would suspect him. And I think someone in a wheelchair has more access than someone who can't see. The victims of that construction site have confirmed all that was done and said about their accidents. And Mrs. Loomis, or should I say the Mrs. Loomis we know of, confirmed every detail of that situation."

"Lt." Masters interjected, warning him to keep his cool.

"Look," Steve rubbed his forehead impatiently as an extra effort to keep down his boiling emotions. "I've gone through Beady's papers again and found some very interesting new clues in Horace Loomis's personal and business files."

"Which means?" Jeffers asked.

"Turns out that Horace Loomis was a bigamist! And a public blood-sucking leech...it means that someone other than Stacy had a stronger motive for wanting him dead than she did!" Steve hollered. "And maybe even opportunity and means."

"But how do you explain them getting the knife from your house with her fingerprints on it?" Jeffers asked.

"I...I haven't gotten that far yet." Steve admitted. "But I only know one thing: Stacy did not kill him and someone out there is running around framing her."

"Do you truly know that, Sloan?" Jeffers asked dismally.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Steve snarled indignantly.

"You say you know your daughter is innocent. But how do you know that for sure? What grounds do you have?"

"I...I'm sure. I just know. She didn't do it. She couldn't have. Stacy's not a killer. She wouldn't murder anyone. She...she just wouldn't!"

"Look, _Steve,_ you have to be open to the possibility. Otherwise you won't be able to properly solve this case." Jeffers said quietly. Steve glowered dangerously and shoved his coworker into the wall by the scruff of his collar. "Hey! Cool it, Sloan."

"She didn't do it!" Steve declared vehemently. Chief Masters was tugging firmly on his arms.

"Steve, let him go. I said let him go!" He ordered.

"Just answer me one question," Jeffers said earnestly, "what makes you so sure, Sloan? Is it because you know her that good, or is it because you refuse to look around and face that she just might have done this?" Steve's face drew blank. His grip loosened. For a minute he just stood there silently, looking dazed. He finally drew back and let go of Jeffers.

"I'm out of this place." He growled. He stared at the floor, then quickly walked out.

"It's not like I enjoyed saying that to him," Jeffers stated. "But I'd hate to see a good cop like him not live up to his oath. He's pretty upset."

"Yeah." Chief Masters sighed. "Wouldn't you be?"

"Probably. But I'm not going to. I'm not married and don't have any kids."

"Listen, Corporal," Masters said firmly, "I understand what you're saying. And we need to follow where our instincts take us, but even so, it wasn't your place to corner Sloan like that and I don't want it to happen again. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Jeffers mumbled. "This whole thing is a mess. It wouldn't be so difficult, except it involves someone close to Steve Sloan."


	17. Chapter 17 Battles of the Heart

No one had heard from Steve since he'd left the hospital. Mark was growing a bit concerned, but then he also thought that maybe his son was groveling himself in further investigation that required intense concentration. If Steve had found something crucial to the case, Mark would wait for him to share when it was time. So, when he finished his shift at the hospital, he grabbed some Mexican take-out and joined Kat at home for dinner. She asked if they had anymore clues, and Mark informed her about what they had so far, though it still wasn't enough. When Steve didn't show up for dinner, Mark called Cheryl. "Has Steve been there?" He asked.

"He was briefly here earlier." Cheryl answered. "But he left hours ago."

"Oh. Well, do you know where he is?"

"No. He didn't say where he was going. Besides, I wasn't here. I thought I'd do a little digging in Las Vegas."

"Oh! Well, did you turn up anything?" Mark asked hopefully.

"No, except more of what an embezzler Loomis was." Cheryl muttered.

"Yeah, Steve told me about that. Anything on Myra Loomis?"

"Nope."

"Well, thank you, Cheryl." Mark sighed.

"Sure." Cheryl said and Mark hung up.

"My guess is Steve went back to the crime scene." Mark shrugged.

"Oh, Grandpa! Guess what?" Kat exclaimed excitedly. "I got a call from the Pint-Sized Daycare center today."

"Isn't that the one where Amanda had CJ going to when he was younger?"

"Yep. The supervisor said that she looked at my application, plus the references from Bonnie, and she's looking forward to talking to me! I'm supposed to go there tomorrow at one!"

"Oh, that's great, honey." Mark smiled, thankful for some good news and a cheerful distraction from the case. "You've been working very hard to find a new job, I really hope you get it!"

"Thanks." Kat smiled sheepishly. "It sounds like I might! I really hope so." Just then, the front door opened. The heavy footsteps accurately indicated that Steve had found his way home. "I can't wait to tell Dad." Kat stated. Steve stepped into the dining area, with Annie at his feet. "Hi, Dad." Kat greeted.

"Hey," Steve grunted.

"Have you eaten yet, son?" Mark inquired.

"No."

"Would you like some enchiladas?"

"No, thanks. I'm not hungry." Steve shook his head. Mark's face slightly fell. The last time Steve had given that response, it was because he'd had painful news to deliver.

"Everything all right, Steve?"

"Yeah, everything's fine." Steve said as casually as he could. He didn't want to hurt his family again by dumping his grief on them. He'd done that recently and it had just made everyone unhappy.

"Dad? The supervisor at the Pint-Sized Daycare wants to talk to me tomorrow!" Kat announced. "She sounds like she's looking forward to it."

"Mmm." Steve nodded. "Excuse me." Then he headed downstairs to hide in his old apartment.

Kat and Mark both watched grimly. Mark's protective radar was raising a red flag. It wasn't like Steve to treat his loved ones flippantly, and his attitude bothered Mark. He looked at Kat. Her face was full of disappointment and hurt. Mark gazed at her sympathetically and lovingly touched her arm. "I'm sorry, honey." He said quietly. "He must have a lot on his mind, otherwise he'd be more happy for you."

"Hmm." Kat subtly nodded. She and Mark somberly finished their dinner in uncomfortable silence, then Kat went unhappily to her room.

* * *

Mark was struggling with the decision to go check on Steve or let him be for now to get his thoughts together. Mark chose to sit down and read a little from his Bible first. He knew that Kat had had her feelings hurt, but he also knew that Steve surely hadn't intended to be unkind. After ten minutes and a brief prayer for direction, Mark headed downstairs and Annie accompanied him. They both softly walked into Steve's old den. This had been his 'home' for a small lifetime after Julie had died from cancer and Steve and the girls had accepted Mark's offer to live at the beach house. For a moment, Mark marveled at the fact that they were still here, that they had remained with him this long.

Mark came closer, watching Steve who was sitting on his old couch. He was leaning with his elbows on his knees. In his hands he was holding something, and it was obvious that that was the focus of his attention. Mark squinted, as it was a little difficult to make out the object without his glasses. Then he saw it: a framed artwork piece. It was a sheet of notebook paper with childish writing, and also a juvenile drawn but excellent police badge with the LAPD symbol and colors on it and even the little details had been added. Mark remembered when Stacy and Kat had given that gift to Steve. It had been on Father's Day many years ago. Across the top of the paper was a bold heading in the LAPD's colors, which said:

" **HAPPY FATHER'S DAY, DADDY!**

 **You're the best police man dad in the world! We love you.**

 **Love, Stacy and Kat "**

"I remember when Stacy drew that." Mark stated, standing behind his son.

"Yeah, me too." Steve feebly chuckled. "She was only six-years-old. Julie brought them over here so Carol could take the girls shopping for you and me."

"Steve, what's the matter?" Mark asked seriously.

"I...I just hope I haven't been a disappointment to them." Steve sighed heavily. Mark was taken aback, but he refrained from interjecting Steve's comment. It wasn't for him to say, Steve's daughters should be the one to tell him. Though Mark could easily reassure him, he'd known Steve too long to already predict that his brave son would just keep beating himself up. Instead Mark patted his back.

"Look, Steve. If you don't feel like talking to me, I'll understand. But...I think Kat needs you right now." Mark spoke. Steve curiously turned his head.

"What do you mean?" He asked concerned.

"Well, you didn't seem the least bit interested in her good news when she told you."

"What good news is that?" Steve furrowed his brows.

"I think Kat's feeling ignored at the moment. I think it'd be better if you talk to her instead of me." Mark sighed. Steve grimaced.

"I...I don't think I even noticed her talking to me." He shook his head. "Shoot. Okay, I'll go talk to her." He stood up, setting aside the prized nostalgic gift and quickly headed back upstairs. Mark smiled after him then took his turn of reminiscing on the gift.

* * *

Kat felt miserable. She sat on her bed, her back against the wall. Inwardly, she was wrestling with mixed emotions of negativity and disappointment. It was as if Steve hadn't even cared about the good news she had, especially after how long it had taken the daycare supervisor to get back with her and how long Kat had been trying to find a new job. Kat wanted to cry, but she felt too shut down. Her heart was telling her what she truly thought, but her emotions were telling her otherwise. _I don't think he understands how_ _much_ _I've been waiting and_ _trying to find a new job!_ She thought. _Dad, I know you're upset about Stacy, and I am also. Believe me! But...she's not the only daughter you have. I matter too, don't I?_ Then Kat did almost cry. _No, no, no. That is so wrong! Lord, I'm sorry. I'm sorry! Dad wouldn't deliberately be unkind. He did look upset when he came in. I'm being so...Oh, what's the matter with me?_

Steve marched toward Kat's bedroom, Annie at his heels. He lightly knocked on the door. He felt like he was ten years rewound in time, and that he was about to talk with his nine-year-old little girl about the bad day she'd had at school. "Kat? You in there?" He asked.

"Yes." Came a long sigh.

"Can I come in?"

"Mmm." Kat mumbled. Steve opened the door and walked in. Annie pitter-pattered with him and jumped up onto the bed. She curled up on Kat's pillow and made herself at home. "Not on my pillow!" Kat moaned and shoved the dog to the middle of the bed. "There, you can lay there." Steve chuckled and came to the side of the bed with his hands in his pockets.

"You, uh...you have something you wanted me to know?" He asked. Kat just frowned. "Look, honey," Steve began somberly, "I'm sorry that I ignored you. I don't even remember what you were trying to tell me. I let my mind get distracted, but that's no excuse. I'm sorry." Kat's facial expression didn't change, but she stared at her blanket. "Sweetie, I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. I had no intention of trying to be unkind. I'm sorry."

Kat quietly nodded. "I didn't think you would."

"So, what was your good news you wanted me to know about?"

"Never mind. It's not important." Kat groaned.

"That's not true." Steve said firmly. "Kat, I'm your father. And if you have something to share with me, if it's important to you, then I would like to hear it. I know I don't always show it. Sometimes people are talking to me but my mind is stuck in a box, fixated on something and doesn't want to go to the next one till I get the one I'm in figured out first."

"I'm sorry." Kat whimpered.

"It's okay." He patted her arm. "I would honestly like to know what your good news was."

"Well, the supervisor at the Pint-Sized Daycare called today. She's looked at my application and the references from Bonnie. I'm supposed to meet and talk with her at one tomorrow. She said she's really looking forward to meeting with me!"

"Ah, well. That _is_ good news." Steve smiled, embarrassed about earlier. "I'm sorry I wasn't listening when you first told me. I'm happy for you, honey! I hope you get the job!"

"So do I." Kat agreed.

"Come here." Steve said and reached his arms out. Kat leaned forward and returned his embrace, which calmed her nerves much more than any of the heartfelt words he'd said. "Hey, yes I am worried about your sister. And, I want to get her out of there more than anything in the world right now. But, you're my daughter too, and that means you matter to me."

"Thank you." Kat sighed.

* * *

Mark had returned upstairs when his phone rang. "Mark Sloan." He answered.

"Grandpa, oh am I glad to hear you voice." Stacy exhaled heavily on the other end.

"Good to hear yours too." Mark smiled. "We sure do miss you around here, honey."

"Don't make me homesick." Stacy moaned. She wasn't teasing like she normally would.

"How are you, Stacy? Are you okay, honey?" Mark asked.

"Grandpa? Where's Dad? Is he at home?" Stacy asked back.

"Why? What's the matter, Stacy?"

"Well, he hasn't been here to see me today!" Stacy wailed. "Jessie told me today that Dad said he'd come tonight. But I haven't seen him at all."

"But did..." Mark started then cut himself off. "Hang on a minute, honey." He pulled the phone away from his ear. "Steve!" Mark called.

"Yeah, Dad?" Steve replied as he entered the foyer.

"Stacy's been waiting to see you." Mark said in confusion. "Didn't you visit with her when you went to the station?" Steve hung his head shamefully.

"No, Dad. I didn't." He groaned. "I didn't get a chance. Captain Newman said that I shouldn't, said it was getting too personal for me."

"So, you just walked out?" Mark probed. Steve glared. Why had Mark put it that way?

"It's more than that!" Steve growled. "Newman said either I step off the case or don't have my visits with Stacy. He said he wants me to have a clear mind."

"That's terrible!" Mark protested.

"Grandpa?" Stacy's worried voice spoke up in the phone. "Are you still there?"

"Yes. Yes, Stacy. I'm here." Mark answered. "Listen, honey. Your dad couldn't make it. He wanted to but something came up. Would you like me to come down and see you right now?"

"Would you please?!" Stacy begged.

"Sure I will. All right. I'll see you in a little while. Okay." Mark hung up. "Steve, what brought this on?"

"That pill, Henry Stilton." Steve grumbled. "I confronted him about his report about the murder, and...and I ruffled his feathers a little, so now he's suing the department for harassment."

"Ugh." Kat muttered. "That stinks."

"Well, Stacy's anxious because you didn't see her. I'd better go." Mark said.

"Dad? Please...don't tell her the real reason. It won't do her any good."

"All right, Steve. I won't." Mark agreed, then he left.

"Did Captain Newman really say you couldn't visit Stacy anymore?" Kat interjected.

"Yes. He did." Steve whispered.

"That's not right."

"He's only trying to help me do my job right." Steve spoke defensively, but in his heart, he was having a very difficult time convincing himself of that.

"I still don't think that's right." Kat groaned.

"He thinks my emotions are effecting my judgement." Steve said.

Kat was tempted to ask _are they_ but she refrained from doing so. "Dad, can we still see her?" Kat asked nervously.

"I think so. Just not me." Steve answered.

"Oh, I'm glad we still can. I was worried there for a minute." Kat sighed in relief. "Dad? The trial's coming up soon."

"Don't remind me!" Steve growled.

"Do we have anything concrete yet to create reasonable doubt that Stacy did it?" Kat asked. Steve stared at her longingly.

"Not yet." He hung his head. "But we'll find it! I promise!"

* * *

Stacy tightly gripped Mark in a hug before he even shut the door in the interrogation room. She had been very anxious waiting for Steve all afternoon and evening. Mark told her that something had come up and that Steve had not been able to make it though he had badly wanted to. Marsha had taunted Stacy earlier when she'd been taken back to her cell after Jessie's visit, mentioning the scent of BBQ and implying that Stacy had broken the rules by accepting food that had been snuck in to her. Stacy had been at a loss for words, thankful that in reality she hadn't accepted Jessie's good intentions, but also knowing that defending herself to her cell mate was useless, as she'd grown accustomed to Marsha's manipulative way of always having the last word. Mark talked with Stacy for as long as he could while they had time, trying to reassure her and comfort as best he could.

* * *

Kat was hoping and praying hard that she would get her new job, and that Stacy would be released soon. She honestly did still slightly feel put on the back burner since this case began, but she also knew that the sooner they solved the case, the sooner her sister would come home and maybe things would begin to get back to normal around the house. Kat couldn't help thinking of all the different ways the new job could be a benefit: for one, it would take her mind off her problems-spending quality time with children and taking care of them fulfilled her unlike many other things in life-, help her be productive and get paid for it; and also, it would be some good news around the house for once.

* * *

Stacy couldn't sleep. She had grown accustomed through the years to things coming up and interrupting Steve's plans, especially when it got in the way of family. But this time, it had been different: she lived for the moments that she got to see someone who she knew believed her, and it had disappointed her very much when Steve hadn't shown up. She'd been hoping that he'd have some good news. Stacy knew that Steve must be working extra hard to get this case taken care of, but still, she felt safer with him around in this environment. Maybe, maybe he'd come tomorrow! Stacy understood that Steve wouldn't have stayed away without a good reason, but right now she didn't know what that reason was, and she worried if it was going to happen again. She tried to pray for her family, but it was difficult: the words felt empty and dry as she whispered them. How much longer would she have to be in here? Would Marsha ever stop being a bully? Would she ever see home again? She suddenly found herself feeling some very raw emotions. It was hard trying to be brave in a place like this for so long, and Stacy didn't feel like even trying tonight. Instead, she just let the thoughts flow through her mind. But a few minutes later, something inside her felt odd and not in a pleasant way. Her perspective...something...something didn't feel right, and suddenly she found herself earnestly begging God for forgiveness for feeling so angry, and for her to return her family's love. She truly loved her family, her dad: she really did! But, something felt different inside her mind about Steve. It was a weird, withdrawn feeling and she didn't like it at all! _No, no, no!_ She told herself in her mind. _Dad cares about me and I love him! I do! This isn't his fault! It isn't! It's isn't!_ Her subconscious mind was trying to defend herself against the situation, and her raw emotions were aiming themselves at Steve right now.

* * *

 _Instead of the police station, Steve Sloan found himself inside a courtroom with Kat, Amanda, and Jessie. He was in the audience, waiting miserably...but for what? Then his heart jumped into his stomach as he recognized two familiar heads sitting at the defendant's table. One was a man's, with trim, well-kept snow white hair: his father's! And the other was long and blonde, pulled halfway back with a clip: his daughter's! The two of them glanced worriedly at each other, and Mark tightly gripped Stacy's hand trying to reassure her. Then the gavel pounded down heavily, it sounded and felt to Steve like a dungeon door slamming:_

" _Has the jury reached a verdict?" The gruff judge asked._

" _We have, Your Honor."_ _ **Henry Stilton**_ _stood up for the jury members. "We find Dr. Mark Sloan guilty of the murders of Gordon Gonzalez and Spring Dano." Steve gasped anxiously, his heartbeat echoing in his ears. "We find Stacy Sloan guilty of murder in the first degree." Then Stilton's eyes fell on Steve, and he smiled smugly at the mortified detective._ _Steve jumped to his feet and rushed to the front of the courtroom._

" _Your Honor, no!" Steve begged. "You can't do this! My father was already acquitted of that charge years ago! He doesn't belong in here, this shouldn't even be going on! I demand that you release him! And..."_

" _Oh, you big lug." A haunting voice whined from the prosecutor's desk, and Steve's blood ran cold. "Why can't you for once just let the wheels of justice do their job?" Steve slowly turned his head and felt his veins boil. It was Malcolm Trainor! He was fussing pathetically, the whole time gloating wickedly at Mark who was just as horrified to see him there. Steve placed his hand on his gun._

" _You stay out of this,_ _you piece of scum!" Steve bellowed._

" _ENOUGH!" The judge hollered, flinging down his gavel. Stacy jumped in her seat and stayed close to Mark. They both looked painfully scared and Steve was cut to the quick seeing them so vulnerable and easily frightened. Only he could stand now between them and an unjust ruling. "Lt. Sloan, you have no legal right to speak in this matter..."_

" _I have EVERY right!" Steve thundered back. "Your Honor, you can't let them convict my father when he's already been acquitted and this expunged from his record! You can't!"_

" _The evidence says otherwise, Lt. We understand your emotions..." A female voice broke in._

" _No you don't!" Steve_ _cut her off, then felt another wave of adrenaline zap down his spine. The female voice belonged to none other than...the prosecutor was...Sharon Ellison!_

" _What about your daughter?" She asked Steve coyly. He stopped for a moment then looked back at his daughter. Her lips were trembling, and her countenance was pleading, begging him to get her out of this! Steve felt like he was being drawn in quarter from all directions. He was their only hope!_

" _I...I can't prove it at this moment," Steve cringed, hanging his head. "But, I know she's innocent!"_

" _Discussion's over." The judge growled. "Dr. Mark Sloan, and Stacy Sloan," he addressed them as they were walked up to his desk by the bailiff, "in view of the evidence brought before me, and in the verdict of guilty in murder of the first degree, I hereby sentence both of you to death by..."_

" _NO!" Steve pleaded. "You Honor, I beg you: don't do this!"_ _The judge rolled his eyes, tired of this ring-around-the-rosy._

" _If that's the way you feel about it," Sharon Ellison said casually, "in that case, Lt. Sloan, I'm afraid you must choose between them." Steve's heart stopped: he went completely numb. "They're both guilty as you see for yourself. We understand you're very upset because they're your family. But you can't change the law, Lt. It's all up to you now. Someone needs to pay for these grisly crimes: either your father or your_ _ **sweet, innocent**_ _daughter. You're gonna have to decide." Steve was_ _devastated_ _. How could they ask such a thing? How could they throw such an impossible, infernal deathly responsibility on his shoulders?! WHY?! Why him?! How could they? Unable any longer to keep up his tough exterior, he gazed in horror at his dad and little girl. Mark held a trembling Stacy close to him_ _as she protectively clung her arms tightly around him,_ _and their fearful, pleading facial expressions felt_ _like a_ _knife in Steve's guts._ _ **He**_ _had to decide which one of them lived and which one went to the electric chair?! He was being forced to choose between two of some of the dearest people in the world to him! He looked back at his other daughter, Kat who was froze with fright. Then he saw Jessie and Amanda who were staring at him in disbelief. Steve couldn't do this, he just couldn't!_

" _Here,_ _ **I'll**_ _take their place!" Steve declared confidently. "I'll pay for their crimes, Your Honor."_

" _Steve, no!" Mark painfully called out. "Steve, you can't!"_

 _"Dad!" Kat cried._

 _"Steve!" Amanda and Jessie yelled out together._

" _Dad! Dad, don't!" Stacy wailed. Steve looked back at them sadly. Yes, it was a painful choice, but it was the only thing he could do to insure their safety._ _Steve gulped and tried to muster a brave, reassuring smile, hoping they would understand that it would be okay._

" _We can't accept that, Lt." The judge muttered. "Enough of the melodrama!" Mark let go of Stacy and stepped forward._

" ** _I'll_** _go." He said calmly._

 _"Mark!" Jessie and Amanda hollered again._

 _"NO!" Kat protested._

" _Grandpa!" Stacy sobbed. "Don't..." Steve grabbed his father's arm._

" _No, Dad! I won't let you do this!" He exclaimed. Mark gazed at him and touched his shoulder._

" _It'll be all right, Steve." Mark said tenderly, looking into his son's tear-filled eyes. "Get Stacy out of this place and bring her home. Take care of her and Kat. Look after Jessie and Amanda for me. And remember, I love you all more than anything in the world."_

 _Before Steve could utter another protest, his head started whirling around uncontrollably. His vision went blurry and was blackening quickly, plus he was powerfully dizzy from the nausea in his stomach. He was trying to say his dad's name, but no words came out. He couldn't seem to breathe either. The echoing voices around him became muffled and sounded farther and farther away..._

Steve aggressively rolled off the bed and landed in a loud, heavy heap on the floor. His eyes popped open as his head hit the hardwood floor. Everything inside his body was racing with fear. He was drenched in sweat and couldn't seem to catch his breath. Then he realized where he was: he wasn't in that dreadful courtroom where the horrific choices of life and death for his loved ones were thrust upon his shoulders! He was home, he was at home on his back in his own bedroom. He exhaled heavily and covered his face with his hands. He moaned, shivering and whimpered, just laying there trying to catch his breath.

"Steve? Are you all right, son?" Mark asked tenderly, touching his shoulder. Steve looked up into his father's kind eyes and grimaced.

"I didn't hurt myself if that's what you mean." Steve moaned.

"Is everything okay, Grandpa?" Kat groggily asked from behind them.

"I think so, honey." Mark replied reassuringly, though he wasn't so sure about Steve's emotional or mental state. "Steve just fell out of bed. I think he'll be all right." _I hope!_ He didn't want to alarm his granddaughter."You can go back to bed, Sweetie."

"All right." Kat sighed with a yawn. "Good-night." Then she went back to her room.

"Steve, what happened?" Mark asked slowly. He knew his son was far from all right, and wanted to help him. Steve's face was pained with hurt and he was still hyperventilating.

"N-nothing, Dad. I...I just fell out of bed. I'll be all right." Steve lied. He didn't want Mark to know of what a gut-wrenching nightmare he'd suffered, especially since Mark himself had been one of the doomed victims in the dream, with his fate in Steve's hands! Mark had needlessly suffered enough when he was imprisoned at Death Row, and Steve didn't want to cause him more pain by telling him the details of his nightly illusion. Annie slipped her head under Steve's arm and licked his face.

Mark could sense that Steve was holding back from him, and it was plain to see that he _wasn't_ all right at all! "Steve, are you _really_ all right?" Mark asked emphatically.

"I'll be fine, Dad. You can go back to bed." Steve muttered, finally sitting up then climbing back onto the bed with his long legs stretched out over the edge. He rubbed his hand through Annie's soft fur. Mark could see that his son was still shivering, though Steve tried his best to hide it. He sensed that Steve had had a nightmare, whether it had been from slumber or a great fearful thought plaguing his mind.

"You wanna talk about it?" Mark probed gently. Steve sighed, shaking his head.

"No. I-I'll be okay." Steve stammered. He was obviously still too distressed to vocalize his night horror.

"Steve, I think you should talk about it." Mark persisted.

"Dad, _please!"_ Steve begged. "Not...not now. Please not now."

"All right, okay." Mark sighed, patting his shoulder. "If you need me, just holler, okay?"

"Thanks, Dad." Steve hung his head. Mark gazed at him sympathetically, wishing he could do more for his son, but apparently right now it would only make Steve feel worse. He was hoping to attract much less attention to his personal problems by not mentioning them to his family. But it seemed that the more he tried to avoid sharing it-all so they wouldn't be hurt by it-the more attention he seemed to attract when his emotions got the better of him!

Mark slowly walked out and went to Kat's room. He peeked inside her door: she was asleep, but he stepped in and affectionately stroked her long brunette hair. Kat didn't even stir, but slept on peacefully. Mark started to tear up a little. He felt incredibly blessed that he'd been allowed to contribute to his granddaughters' upbringing, it had been a privilege-a challenge, but a privilege-that he was overjoyed to be a part of. He hated thinking of one of them being separated from them right now, and unjustly too, but Mark at the moment felt an extra special warmth for Kat, that she was here safe with them and still bringing joy to their lives. He leaned down and kissed her head. "'Night, Sweetheart." Mark murmured, then quietly walked out. He passed Steve's bedroom again and looked in. Steve was in the same position he'd left him in, only this time with his head in his hands and Annie leaning her head on his calf. Mark turned away and looked up at the ceiling. "Help him, Lord." He prayed. _"_ _Please,_ help him."

Steve wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there like that, but it felt like hours. He finally stood up, pacing, wishing that _something, some clue or theory_ would nag his mind and steal his slumber, but nothing came to him...nothing but what he already knew. He walked to the window and hung his head. As hard as he tried, he could not erase the dream images from his memory of Mark and Stacy hearing the verdict then looking fearfully up at him, wondering...wondering _which one_ of them he would choose! Steve angrily pounded his fist on his wall. How could this whole mess have happened in the first place? Why? Why did it have to be Stacy? Why did she choose to go to her tyrannical boss's house that night when she knew it was useless? If she'd gone home like she was supposed to this wouldn't have happened! Well, yes it probably would've, but not with such conclusive evidence for the whole world to see! They'd prayed and prayed for guidance to the real killer and it didn't seem to be getting them very far as far as Steve could see. He hated feeling this helpless and clueless, it was against his nature and instinct, yet here he was not able to get out of it.

Steve squeezed his eyes shut tightly and tried to gulp down the lump in his throat. He gently rubbed his temples. "Don't...please don't!" He cried lowly. "Don't let it come to this! Oh, God, please...don't let this be happening!"


	18. Chapter 18 Painful Questions

"Dad's hardly come to see me at all this week. Why?" Stacy cried, looking at Mark sadly. He stared at her sympathetically. It had been four days since Steve had been ordered not to visit her, and still no one had told her the true reason why. They didn't want her to lose her respect for Captain Newman, or resent Steve's career, plus it would only make her more miserable. But not knowing was making her more anxious. Not only had Steve not come to see her, but now he couldn't bring himself to even call her on the phone and speak with her. He felt so guilty about not being able to see her, having to hear her on the phone would only make it worse.

"He's doing all he can to solve this case, dear," Mark replied gently. "He's not stopping at anything, determined to prove your innocence."

"Grandpa," Stacy asked hesitantly, "Dad...Dad _does_ believe me, _d-doesn't_ he?" The pleading in her voice brought a lump to Mark's throat.

"Of course he does, sweetheart!" Mark replied in disbelief at the unexpected question, gripping her shoulders. "How could you ever think he doesn't? He knows you're telling the truth. I know he does!" Mark was sensing that maybe he should just tell her the truth about Steve's predicament, surely she would understand.

"But how come he won't come to see me at all?" Stacy repeated. "Grandpa, you should've seen the look on his face when...when…," her voice was breaking up, "the night of the murder. When that officer brought me into the sitting room by the arm, and told my own father that I was the prime suspect, he...he stared at me like...it...it was almost as if he didn't know me! It was horrible, Grandpa!" There were tears now in Stacy's eyes and Mark was crushed seeing her like this. "And he didn't say anything."

Mark patted her shoulders. Stacy had never been this depressed that she questioned her family's trust. Being a doctor, but also an insightful, compassionate soul, Mark realized that the pressure of time with the trial coming up, the terrible fright of being in jail where she didn't belong, and the uncertainty of not knowing if she was going to be cleared of this crime was pulling his oldest granddaughter down very low, and she was very low, and she was truly scared of what might happen. This jail, an essential place to society but nonetheless isolated and so unpleasant was taking its toll on her, and the driven fear in her heart and mind made her incredibly anxious to get out. She'd been trying to stick it out for a while and be grateful for the many blessings she did have in life-like family who believed her and were working to prove it-, but Mark could see that this was obviously one of her bad days in prison. The emotions she'd been trying to use in focusing on how fortunate she was to have family and friends who were trying to help her, during the passed week were now catching up.

"I know, honey." Mark nodded sadly. "I know. But your dad wasn't reacting like that because he thought you did it! You've got to believe that! It really cut him off guard that you were being arrested, and he was blown away. It hurt Steve deeply, Stace hon, to have to stand by and watch you be hauled off like a common criminal. This has been one of those rare times, Stacy that I've seen your strong father appear so distraught. He wanted more than anything to make his partners let you go, but he had a job to do, it took all his willpower to do it." Stacy nodded sadly. Mark continued softly. "Honey, it's hard for Steve to come in here and see you like this. He feels so helpless whenever we don't find any new leads, and he can't bear to look you in the eyes and tell you to your face that he's no closer to getting you out of this place than when he last saw you." Mark gulped. Stacy stared at him thoughtfully. That last explanation made all the sense in the world and slightly calmed her mind, but only a little. "He wants nothing more than to see you home again. Believe me, Sweetie, your dad loves you and he knows you didn't commit this crime."

Stacy was silently weeping now and her shoulders were shaking. Mark pulled her close in a warm, strong hug, the kind only he could give, that always felt alive with reassurance and compassion. It's not that Steve's hugs were any less loving, but they were always filled with a sensation of determination that sometimes made his two daughters feels like they should try to stick things out a little more. Mark's, on the other hand, were more soft-spoken, almost like a mother's tender touch and Stacy basked in his kind, much needed affection right now. "Oh, Grandpa..." Stacy sobbed. "I...I just feel so helpless right now."

"Shh. Shh It's all right." Mark whispered.

"I hate being in this dreadful place, and I just want to go home! I wish I was home. I feel like I'm never going to see it again." Mark let her have a good cry, which both pained and also relieved him, as he knew that Stacy would feel somewhat released afterwords. He handed her his handkerchief when she showed signs of calming down. "Th-thank you." She whimpered, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry. I figured it had to be something like you said that was bothering Dad, but I...I guess I just needed to hear it from somebody."

"It's true, honey." Mark smiled sadly. "And I understand. I know how it feels to be trapped in here, scared and not knowing what's going on. It's very hard, I know and I'm so sorry that you have to be in here."

Stacy sighed. "It wasn't your idea. And, it's not Dad's partners' faults, if I'm honest about it. But I still don't like it. I just wish he'd at least talk to me. Kat does, and Amanda, and Jessie, whenever they get a chance. I guess I'm just especially missing Dad right now, partly because this is right in his line of work, he's good at it, and I'm really hoping to see him solve this case...soon!"

"I understand," Mark said. "Believe me, and we're all working as hard as we can to get you out of here! And you _will_ be back with us soon, honey! I promise!"

"I hope so." Stacy smiled sadly. Mark gently touched her face.

"You will." He said kindly. He wasn't sure how, but he was determined to keep that promise. "Oh, I hate to say this, but my time's up. I hate to go, Stace but I have to." Stacy hid herself again in his strong hug. Mark reluctantly pulled away after a minute. "I love you, Sweetie."

"I love you too, Grandpa." Stacy said quietly. She was disheartened that he had to go, but his visit here had been what she needed. She truly felt a bit more relieved than she had in the passed 4 days. "Thank you so much for coming to see me today! I'm so glad you came."

"So am I." Mark smiled warmly and slowly walked to the door.

"Grandpa?" Stacy asked quickly.

"Yes?" He turned to face her.

"Could you please try to persuade Dad to at least talk to me?" Stacy begged.

"You know I will." Mark replied and Stacy smiled widely, the first he'd seen all day. "Well, bye."

"Bye." Stacy said softly. Though she was very sad, for the first time in the passed few days, she felt a renewed hope.

* * *

Kat's interview four days ago at the daycare center had gone so good that the director had started her to work immediately! Mark and Steve were both very happy for her, and Steve made extra effort to praise her for her success. Kat was so grateful to be working again. It was wonderful being useful in being with children, plus it also distracted her from the troubles at home, which was probably the reason why physically she was in much better shape than her father was.

Steve had barely slept for days, and if he did it was broken slumber. He'd try to sleep, but his mind would be fully awake even as he tried to rest. He just couldn't rest. Mark was growing more and more concerned about him every time he saw his son, as were their friends. Steve had not opened up or shared with Mark at all about his horrible nightmare, and ever since then, he just seemed to become more withdrawn and buried himself in his work. He hardly spoke, and he looked so drained, physically, emotionally, all of the above. Every time Mark saw Steve and no one had anything new to offer on the case, Mark could see the deep anguish and fear in his son's eyes. It was beginning to look more and more grim, and time was running out!

The worst thing that happened was at church that Sunday. During one of the service breaks, three members of the group walked up to Steve, Mark, and Kat. They were Mrs. Hoffner, Jim Connel, and Lina Doring. "Steve," they all said politely, "you look terrible."

 _Just drop it,_ Steve thought to himself but didn't say anything. He just nodded.

"How are you all doing through this terrible trial?" Mrs. Hoffner asked.

"We're doing our best." Mark replied grimly. Kat remained safely behind him, not really wanting to hear the trio's fancy worded well wishes. They were known to be nosy.

"Oh, I imagine it must be so hard for you," Lina murmured, "your daughter in jail, nothing coming up to prove her innocence." She rambled dramatically. Kat glared.

"I'd really rather not talk about it." Steve said quickly, trying to end the conversation.

"Steve, we understand it's not easy for you." Jim Connel remarked. "I mean, you're the best cop in this city? And what happens? Your own offspring leaves behind everything you stand up for." Steve stiffened up tightly and set his jaw angrily.

"What are you getting at?" He growled.

"Well, Stacy is still in jail." Lina shrugged casually.

"What about it?" Mark chimed in.

"Nothing critical, believe me." Mrs. Hoffner added. "But one of you apparently needs to clear their conscience with the Lord, or this would've been taken care of by now." Steve felt his veins stand on end.

"I don't think that's any of your business!" Mark declared firmly, with uncharacteristic anger.

"The real killer is still out there!" Steve huffed belligerently. "Once we find the connection we need, we'll be just fine and Stacy will be in the clear!"

"Steve, we know it's terribly difficult for you, knowing your child has gone astray." Jim said again. It took all of Steve's willpower not to strangle him! "Do you think you'll ever really get over it? If she would just get down on her knees and confess her sin, it would be a blessing compared to this."

"Why you!" Steve snarled.

"You must have failed her somewhere as a father," Lina stated, "otherwise, how could she possibly be in this mess?" Steve's eyes burned in fury, but Mark firmly held him back.

"Steve!" He warned. "I want you to leave here right now. Go on, go ahead." He said as calmly as he could. He was greatly appalled at what had just transpired, and could easily imagine his son's pain.

"GLADLY!" Steve yelled and stormed out of the church building. Kat stared unhappily at their so-called 'friends' for what they'd just said, and she darted out too.

Mark could not believe what he'd just heard, and he felt a rising anger creep up his neck, a very unusual feeling for those who knew him well. "I must say, I don't appreciate what you just said." He said firmly. "You had no right! Steve's going through a lot of pain right now, and _you_ my so-called friends have just tossed salt into the wounds! I find it downright cruel, and you won't be seeing us the rest of the day!" And with that, Mark also left the building. He found Kat waiting at the car, but Steve was not there. "Honey, I'm so sorry you had to hear that." Mark said, touching Kat's shoulder.

"It's none of their business!" Kat exclaimed. She was fuming over how someone could be so inconsiderate, especially at a time like this! "Poor Dad. I just want to go home." She wanted to just rush into her bedroom and stay there away from everybody.

"That's exactly what we're going to do." Mark agreed, but his eyes were scouring the parking lot for Steve. He didn't see him anywhere. "Did you see your dad when you came out?"

"No." Kat said flatly.

"All right. Let's go." Mark sighed, though he didn't feel anywhere near as calm as he tried to put on. He was really worried about Steve, and was still deeply angered by how his family had been treated. He consoled himself with one small comfort, that Stacy hadn't been here to hear it. The two Sloans rode home together in silence, though Mark took the longer route for two reasons, so they could have more time to collect their thoughts, and secondly, to see if he could find Steve.

* * *

An hour later, Amanda called Mark at home on the phone. She'd grown concerned when she hadn't seen them the rest of the church service. Mark assured her that they weren't sick, well, not in the physical sense, but that they'd just needed to get away. Amanda strongly felt that there was more to it than that, and she wanted to help if she could. "Is there anything I can do?" She kindly offered.

"Just pray for us right now, honey." Mark said sadly. "Especially Steve. He isn't doing well at all."

"I've noticed." Amanda agreed. "Mark, what really happened? You can tell me."

"Later, Amanda." Mark said.

"All right." Amanda sighed. "You take care of yourselves."

"We will." Mark whispered. "Thanks for calling."

"Sure."

"Uh, you haven't seen Steve, have you?"

"No." Amanda shook her head. "Why?"

"I haven't seen him." Mark said. "I'm sure he's just trying to be somewhere where he won't be intruded on, so he can think."

"Right." Amanda said, though she was beginning to feel anxious about Steve too. "I'll let you go. Please call if you need anything!"

"I will. Thank you, Amanda." Mark said softly, then hung up.

Amanda set down the phone and tried to figure out what to do. She should've been fixing the boys' lunch. She sat down at the table, rubbing her hands together. CJ and Dion were still playing outside, so Amanda just began praying by herself for her dear friends. She wasn't sure what exactly was going on, but she knew they were having a hard time.

* * *

Steve hadn't gone to the car, that was too easy. No, he'd walked down the street. He was so angry he couldn't see straight. How dare those busybodies accuse his family of being at fault, and on such a personal level! It wasn't any of their blasted business! He felt just like Job, with his 'friends' who had come to 'comfort' him in the middle of his tragedy, but then started judging him for it! Steve could wholeheartedly agree with, _"_ _Miserable comforters are you all!"_ How could anyone-especially someone who called themselves a Christian-act so self-righteous and not be able to see the depth of pain they were inflicting to the already throbbing wound? Well, one thing was for sure: those hypocrites wouldn't be seeing Steve Sloan attend the same church service with _them_ again any time soon!

It was a long way to walk, but his fury drove him on, and Steve found himself in the Loomis's neighborhood. He didn't stop until he was facing their grand house. Steve glared at the fancy place. He abhorred that place, it was the source of all his and his family's current pain. His usually sparky blue eyes were cold over with ice now. He shoved his hands into his pockets and just stood there, his anger and anxiety whipping up a hollow but intense mixture inside him. He squared his shoulders and breathed heavily through his nose.

"Why, Stacy?" He groaned. "Why? Whatever gave you the stupid idea to go confront that miserly hog when you knew it was pointless? You should've waited! Maybe by morning, it would've blown over though I doubt it. You shouldn't have done it! You should've come straight home to have dinner like we all planned. If you'd been sensible and just come home, none of this would've happened!" Having vented, Steve felt a wave of steam blown off, but the lingering frustration remained. "I hate this!" Steve hung his head. "I'm sorry, honey. I know you were just trying to stand up for yourself, just like we taught you. But...why couldn't you have chosen another time? Or another way?" Steve couldn't voice his thick regret any longer, but his thoughts swirled around in his mind. In reality, it wasn't his daughter he was angry with. Yes, he was very upset with those people at church, Corporal Jeffers, and Henry Stilton, very much so! But deep down inside, Steve was mostly angry with himself. He'd promised Julie that he'd always take care of their two girls, and what kind of lousy job of that was he doing right now? Steve Sloan felt like such a failure. First of all, he'd failed to prevent his father from being convicted and sentenced to Death Row for a murder he didn't commit; he'd failed to keep his daughter from going to jail; then, he'd failed to get her out on bail; he'd failed to protect her good name in public; he'd failed to stay level-headed and not lose sight of how blessed he was with his remaining family who were free to live their lives; he'd failed to not get so wrapped up in their trouble that he didn't remind his other daughter how special she still truly was to him; he'd failed to not lose control of himself, which resulted in not being able to reassure Stacy that he was there for her. Yep, he'd blown it...big time! At least, that's what he told himself.

Mark's situation with the Trainors had proven almost hopeless, yet they'd pulled through and were all survivors from it. Could this trial be any the less seemingly impossible to harvest the true answers to? So much, at stake, within his jurisdiction, within his line of work, his responsibility, and yet, so much out of his control! It seemed like the harder and more vigorously he tried to clear Stacy, the worse things became. But he could NOT leave things as they were! If he did...Steve had to keep working this case! He just had to! He refused to let that horrid dream come true.

* * *

 **Is my plot being put together too choppy? I hope not. I sure hope that if and when they catch the killer that the details of this case will make sense to you guys. Reviews would help. This is my first really dramatic DM fanfic, so sorry if it stinks. The Bible verse comes from** **Job 16:2.**


	19. Chapter 19 A Welcome Face

Steve just sat there at his desk, slouching in his chair and staring off into space. Why was he even here? "I don't know what I even expected to find." He grumbled to no one in particular.

"Wake up, Dozy." Someone said to him and lightly flicked the side of his face.

"Hey," Steve groaned and looked up at who had flicked him. He stared in surprise to see Tanis Archer standing there. "Oh," He slightly grinned. "Hi, Archer. When did you get back?"

Tanis crossed her arms and cocked her head. "Well, I guess after four months of undercover work as a dentist secretary for Dr. Unauthorized Philanthropist in Barstow, and then busting his back along with his other cronies, I suppose I decided to go back to my old day job in this crumby old joint. Other than that, my life's a party."

Steve chuckled. That was Tanis, level-headed, dry humor, but efficient and fun to be around. "So, what brings you here?" Steve asked.

"This." Tanis answered, sliding a paper across his desk. Steve's shoulders slumped and pursed his lips. It was that shrimp Henry Stilton's article about police harassment. Tanis was grinning at Steve.

"What are you looking at?" Steve chided.

"What'd you do this time, Sloan?" Tanis asked.

"I didn't like what he had to say and I told him so." Steve said grimly, rearing back in his chair and flipping the paper down on the desk with a huff. "The little pimp should be deflated."

"So, turned up anything interesting?" Tanis continued.

"Oh, plenty!" Steve growled. "But not enough. Nothing concrete to create reasonable doubt."

"Listen, why don't I give you guys a hand with this?" Tanis offered.

"Do _you_ believe Stacy's innocent?" Steve raised his eyebrows.

"You wouldn't be running around and getting yourself into trouble trying to prove it so hard if she wasn't." Tanis teased, though she meant every word. "You let me do some of the digging for a bit, and don't come home with any more of these rap sheets, okay?" She smiled, holding the newspaper. "Besides," She rolled her eyes, "I feel I kind of owe you on this one."

"I'd really appreciate it." Steve said with a lighter heart.

"So, who's in charge of this case?"

"I am!" Steve huffed. "Okay," he corrected himself. "Technically, Corporal Jeffers is. Not that he's actually doing anything."

"Tuesday beef sandwich Jeffers?" Tanis raised her eyebrows. "How did he come to receive such an honor?"

"He was the arresting officer." Steve mumbled, staring away again.

"Well, where do I begin? Got any suspects?"

"You can get the case file from him." Steve said. "But yes, I have a few people in mind. There's Henry Stilton, whom you already know. He's very cocky, and is out to get what he wants. He's had his head in the clouds since his boss was killed. Then there's Georgina Walters, the secretary who quit her job after the murder. And Janice Loomis, the widow."

"These are suspects?"

"They're _my_ suspects." Steve said. "Oh, yes. And we have a mysterious Myra Loomis whose name turned up in some of Loomis's papers his attorney was trying to hide from us."

"Miss or Mrs.?" Tanis raised her eyebrows.

"We're assuming a Mrs." Steve said. "Yes, there was a Mrs. Loomis who lived with him when he was in Las Vegas, but no one seems to know what happened to her after that. She disappeared when Loomis decided to move to LA, but we can't seem to trace her!"

"Okay. I'll see what I can dig up." Tanis said.

"Tanis?" Steve asked and rose to his feet. "Hey, I want you to know I really do appreciate this. I can't seem to find anything to put Stacy in the clear, and...well, it's eating me up. We've got to do something, but...I feel at such a loss for leads. I appreciate the help."

"You try to do too much on your own, you know that?" Tanis grinned, smacking his arm.

"You sound just like my father."

"I have a strong hunch your father is involving himself in this?"

"Would you have it any other way?" Steve smiled.

"I won't go there." Tanis shook her head and walked away to find Corporal Jeffers. Steve watched her wistfully, smiling. Maybe she could find something that they hadn't.


	20. Chapter 20 Turbulence

Tuesday mid-morning, Stacy sat on her cot, having to face another glum day in this place of corrections. Yet, she still felt a small, warm spark of hope from her visit with Mark a few days ago. She tried to focus on her blessings, though ninety percent of them were outside the walls of this world, but every moment she still longed for and hoped that it would be her last day in her cell and that maybe the next morning she'd be in her own bed. It was a very long shot, but hoping for it kept her going.

Breakfast had been tough this morning: _A few of the prisoners harassed her and spilled_ _their food on her. Though she'd come to expect that kind of thing often now, it didn't make it easier. She tried to_ _ignore them and_ _walk away to a different table, but Marsha yanked on Stacy's ankle chains and tripped her. Stacy stared at the hard floor, her bruised knees aching from the collision. The troublemakers at the table laughed, but this time a new voice had interrupted them. "Cut it out, you maggots!" An unfamiliar female voice growled. Stacy gazed up at her wide-eyed. The woman had to be a few years older than her, with short-cut, dark hair._

" _Butt out, Kaine." Marsha laughed. But the 'Kaine' prisoner glowered at them._

" _I've been watching you four rats for a while, and you're a bunch of animals." Kaine snarled. "This one hasn't done anything to bother_ _you,_ _so back off!"_

" _Her old man's a copper, don't forget." The mangled, dirty blonde-haired one said snootily._

" _What he does isn't her doing." Kaine argued. Stacy gaped at her. This was the first prisoner she'd been around who hadn't bad-mouthed her father! Or herself for that matter. "This place is really too good for the likes of you four!" Kaine glared icily. "I don't wanna see you bother her again without a good reason. You got it?" The four bullies pursed their lips in disgust. Kaine wasn't a violent person to them-in fact, she was a model inmate, which scratched their nerves-, but she had an aggressive manner of backing you in a corner and making you squirm if you crossed the line in her book._

" _Why does she concern you?" Marsha rolled her eyes._

" _Because if it were left up to me, I'd fix your tails so good in front of everyone then you'd think twice next time before acting like a bunch of hoodlums."_

" _Get out of here." Marsha waved her off then turned her attention back to her friends._

 _Kaine looked down at Stacy who stared at her, stunned. Kaine didn't smile, but she didn't glare either. She just wore a blank expression as Stacy rose to her feet. "Th-th-thank you." Stacy stammered feebly. She didn't know what else to say._

" _Forget it." Kaine shrugged. "I've seen them bothering you. Hey, don't feel too bad. You're not the only one. But they've chosen you in particular right now because your dad's a cop." Stacy hung her head. "Don't let them get to you. You've got to stand up to them. You've been kind of a pushover. What, you trying to turn the other cheek or something?"_

" _I...I just never know what to do about it." Stacy answered. "I feel like I can't do anything about it without doing something I know I shouldn't. Sometimes I get so mad I'm at a loss for words."_

" _Well, you have to get used to that in this place." Kaine remarked. "But no matter what they do, **you** make sure that you follow your conscience. Stooping down to their level can become lethal in here if you let it control you." Stacy gulped. Though the advice sounded a lot like ethical life facts she already knew at home, here they sounded so hollow to do you any good. _

" _I don't want to do that!" Stacy gasped. Then, breakfast was over. "I guess I'll see you around." Stacy sighed. "And, thank you for stepping in for me. I really appreciate it."_

 _Kaine still didn't smile. "No sweat." She stated, then they were all escorted out of the mess hall. Stacy watched the woman as they went their separate ways. She was very curious about her. Maybe she could get to know her better. It would be nice to talk to someone else for a change besides a cold snip._

* * *

Stacy was not assigned to bookkeeping today, so she remained in her cell for now. But all too soon, Marsha returned. Stacy stared down at her fingernails and fiddled with them nervously as her nemesis entered the cell. "Oh, what a mess that was!" Marsha announced angrily. "Would you believe that? That dud that calls himself my lawyer says I my appeal isn't for three more months, when last time he said it was two weeks away! No wonder so many people are still stuck in here. Go figure, huh?" Stacy cleared her throat and shrugged. Then Marsha became eerily calm and Stacy could feel a suspicious smirk looking down at her. "So, what did you do to get old Kaine on your side? Hmm?" Marsha asked.

"Nothing." Stacy muttered, staring at the floor. "She was just trying to be nice."

"Oh, don't play innocent with me." Marsha grinned smugly and tousled Stacy's blonde hair. Stacy bristled up. She didn't like this woman touching her, especially with a mock attitude. Stacy pushed Marsha's hand away.

"Would you leave me alone for a change?" Stacy groaned with a glare and turned her face away.

"Just how much did you promise Kaine for her to be nice to you?" Marsha asked in a firmer tone.

" _Nothing!"_ Stacy blurted defensively. "Just leave me alone!" She stood up and tried to walk the few inches to her side of the cot with the pillow. But Marsha suddenly grabbed her by the arm! Stacy gasped and stared at her frightfully. Her cell mate had never done _this_ before. "Hey!" Stacy moaned. "Let go of me!"

"You think you're real special, don't you?" Marsha grinned slyly, but her eyes were angry. "You think Grandpappy's money can get you anything, don't you?"

"Stop it!" Stacy bit her lip hard, fighting for control. Her face grew hot with anger but she was also trembling with timidity. "I do not. _Marsha,"_ she said with her jaw set, " _once, just this once_ I'm asking you...no, I'm telling you: leave my family out of this! Haven't you done enough?"

" _Me?"_ Marsha sputtered in a phony hurt voice. "Haven't _I_ done enough? Listen here, you..."

"Leave me alone!" Stacy begged, and tried to pry off Marsha's grip on her arm. "Let go of me." She growled.

"Just how many favors does Kaine owe you? When did you first start paying her off? Did you promise to swing her bail and she can slip you special deals into prison to make yourself feel at home?"

" _Let...go...of...me!"_ Stacy warned emphatically. "Just leave me alone. Please!"

"You know, you can get in a lot of trouble if they find out she's been sneaking stuff in for you." Marsha cocked her head. "You know, that's not a bad idea." She tightened her hold on Stacy, knowing that the intimidation was making her afraid. Stacy to fend her off, but it didn't work. She tried harder and this time, Marsha's hand slipped, Stacy shoved her away, and she tripped. She landed with a bump, her shoulders against her own cot. She gasped in pain. Stacy stared at her, unsure of what to do. Marsha rubbed the back of her head, letting her mob of red hair cover her face-where Stacy couldn't see the satisfied, conniving gleam in her eyes. "Ohhh." Marsha moaned dramatically. Stacy gasped anxiously and stood there, gazing at her with worry on her face. "Ohh!" Marsha wailed louder. A guard came from around the corner. He noticed her on the floor.

"What's the matter with you?" He muttered gruffly.

"Oh, my head." Marsha cried. "It...she shoved me into the bed. My...my head, it..." She groaned theatrically.

"I...I..." Stacy whimpered, too stunned to find the right words. Just then, another figure appeared.

"Sloan?" It was Corporal Jeffers and he was unlocking the cell. Stacy glanced at him, wondering what he was doing here.

"Huh?" Stacy squeaked.

"Your lawyer wants to see you." Jeffers grumbled. He pulled Stacy out of the cell, much to her relief. But then, he pulled her hands out in front of her and locked the handcuffs around them! Stacy gasped, staring down at her hands in disbelief. Jeffers took her by the arm and led her away.

"Oh, my head!" Stacy heard Marsha's taunting voice play on. "Please! Keep her away from me!" Marsha whined.

* * *

Corporal Jeffers brought Stacy into the conference room, hand-cuffed and still clad in the horrid orange jumpsuit. She recognized her defense attorney, Brad Himmel and also the prosecuting attorney, Joe Taylor. She glanced at Brad who only returned her gaze grimly and her heart sank. She wouldn't even look at Taylor, she could feel his cold, triumphant stare and the room suddenly felt much smaller. Jeffers shut the door and stood by with his arms crossed after pushing Stacy down into a chair next to Brad. Oh, how Stacy wished it was Steve and Mark in the room instead of the two legal opponents! "Miss Sloan, I'm sure your remember me? Joe Taylor, prosecutor?" Joe asked formally.

"Yes." Stacy mumbled. _How could I forget?_ She thought to herself.

"Miss Sloan, I'll come right to the point," Taylor said satisfactorily with his hands on his hips as he slowly walked around the table. Stacy gulped and braced herself. "It's a clear-cut case, Stacy, and I'm afraid there's only one alternative." Stacy listened uncomfortably. "You've been working hard at the paper, and don't get me wrong, I find your work very well done. But then your supervisor, Horace Loomis comes on the scene, a bull-headed authority figure whose guts you hate."

"A lot of people did." Stacy spoke up.

"Oh, yes, we must not forget that point." Taylor continued. "But none of them had as much to lose as you did."

"That's not true." Stacy muttered. "Some had much more to lose than me, _much_ more!" Brad touched Stacy's shoulder and whispered to her, reminding her to let the prosecutor play out his cards. Taylor cleared his throat, slightly fidgeting. This conversation wasn't going as smoothly as he'd planned, but he was still absolutely sure of what the final outcome would be.

"Well, okay. Granted." He said uncomfortably. "But still, none of them had the chance that _you did._ He threatened to fire you, and his reasons without merit, you were angry, you were furious, you were scared. After all this hard work and just starting out, he was gonna send you packing without compensation." Taylor was now leaning on the table, close to Stacy. She glared at him anxiously. His close presence was intimidating, and very unsettling. "So, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You decided to get rid of him!"

"No, I didn't!" Stacy exclaimed. "A lot of us at the paper have wished it before and maybe even gave off hand remarks about it, but I didn't do it!"

"You were furious, you took that steak knife of yours, you drove to his home uninvited, you barged in and confronted him, but he wouldn't listen so you used the knife and stabbed him! That's what happened! Isn't it?! Isn't it?!" Taylor growled loudly.

"NO!" Stacy cried, shaking her head. "No, that's not how it happened!" She whimpered. "Yes, I went to his house, but I was gonna try to plea with him not to fire me! I knew it was useless, but I didn't want to go down without a fight."

"Yes, you knew it was useless because you'd already planned to murder him in cold blood!"

"No! You're wrong!" Stacy blurted out. "I called out to him, but got no answer. I looked for him and found him in the study. He was already dead!"

"That's your story, Miss Sloan, but the evidence clearly says otherwise." Taylor stood back. "The knife had your fingerprints all over it, you were found hovering over the body, with Horace's own blood on your hands! And we have testimony from a very reliable source that you did indeed threaten to kill him, in front of witnesses. And verbally!"

"What?!" Stacy gasped. "I did no such thing! You can ask my coworkers, I did not threaten to kill him!"

"Well, apparently, someone has their story twisted." Taylor said sarcastically with his arms crossed. "And I think that someone is _you. You had motive, means, and opportunity._ We have all the evidence we need. I don't think the jury will need too much convincing." Stacy's insides were shivering and she bit her lip. "You have one of two options here, Miss Sloan: you confess everything right here and now, and out of respect for your father's reputation, I'll go for life without parole instead of the death penalty." Stacy sucked in a sharp breath and felt as if someone had told her to commit a crime. She didn't want to appear guilty, but she couldn't erase the worry from her face. She couldn't help it. Brad Himmel touched her shoulder but it brought very little comfort.

"W-what?" She squeaked pitifully.

"You confess to the crime and maybe your dad won't have to watch you go to the gas chamber." Taylor said casually. Stacy tried to calm her body down, but she couldn't shake off the tremors. Why did everyone keep making her feel bad for causing Steve pain? She felt bad enough about that already.

 _Lay off of my Dad!_ She thought.

Jeffers watched her sharply. He wasn't enjoying this at all, but it was his job and it looked pretty clear what should be done. He kept up his gruff cop stare, but, out of respect for his coworker Steve who was having a rough time, he spoke up. "Sloan, do we need to make a trip to the restroom?" He asked.

"N-no." Stacy shook her head, though she did feel very sick.

"Listen, if you didn't have something to hide, you wouldn't be in here." Taylor prodded further. Stacy stared at him in disbelief. "You have options: door number one or door number two?" Jeffers sighed heavily and came over to Stacy. He spoke in low tones.

"Look, I don't like this any more than you do," He almost whispered, "but your dad's already going through the mill. Sloan, it would be so much easier on everyone, including _yourself,_ if you would just confess and get this whole mess over with." Stacy wished she could run away. She wished she was home at the beach house. She wished she was anywhere but here at this moment! And Jeffers' words hurt acutely. She did understand that this situation had to be hard on her whole family, but why did they have to keep bringing it up? It already hurt and burdened her mind heavily.

"I see, you wanna talk this over with your attorney." Taylor shrugged. "It's all right. I can wait. Think I'll get me a cup of coffee." And he walked out satisfactorily.

"I'm sorry, Stacy." Brad Himmel shook his head miserably. "I wish there was something more I could do."

"So, you aren't gonna do anything?!" Stacy sputtered. "It's your job to defend me! Are you telling me you're going to just quit?!"

"I'm very sorry." Brad stared down at the table. "But you heard what he said. We can't ignore the evidence, and how am I gonna contradict it? What do I have to flush it away and create reasonable doubt? Nothing! And I've seen Taylor, he's very good. It would be a losing battle all the way up to the end. The best we can hope for is to go in with a plea of not guilty and maybe you can get suspended time on your sentence. But that's about all I can do for you." Before Stacy could respond, Taylor returned, calmly sipping his coffee.

"Well, have you made up your mind?" He cocked his head. Brad Himmel stood up.

"My client wishes to give a plea of not guilty." He said firmly.

"Come on!" Taylor rolled his eyes. "You guys are grasping at the wind. I can close this case in two minutes."

"We want a plea bargain!" Brad Himmel continued.

"Is that how you feel, Miss Sloan?"

"You don't know how I feel." Stacy said dismally. "I cannot confess because I didn't do anything! I did not murder Horace Loomis, and I'm not going to pretend that I did. I'm innocent!" Taylor raised his eyebrows. "Yes, I am giving a plea of not guilty." Though inwardly, she hoped and prayed that her family could solve this case and clear her before that day came!

"Well, you leave me no choice." Taylor shook his head. "I won't go for it!" Stacy's heart sank. "This case is clear night and day open shut. The DA won't buy your story. If you do not confess, I will fully prosecute for first degree murder. You know what that means, don't you?" His tone was sharp and he peered coldly right at Stacy. She shifted her gaze to the table.

 _Go away!_ She thought. _Please, just get out of here!_

"We know exactly what it means." Himmel spoke up. "But my client earnestly pleads not guilty, and it's my job to see that through."

"Very well." Taylor shrugged. "I tried to make a bargain with you but you refused. You won't agree to confess, hey? All right. I am going with full prosecution for first degree murder. Oh, and I don't think this is going to help your family's already disgraced name any better." He sneered.

Stacy gaped at him in hurt and anger. She hated hearing those words. At _this_ point, she did clutch her stomach as it burned. Jeffers grabbed her from her seat and sent her into the inmates' ladies' room. Cheryl walked up to him. She'd been watching out the window the whole time. "I'll handle this." She told him. He gratefully accepted. She really should've waited, but she stepped into the restroom and heard Stacy from the farthest stall. She was weeping. "Stacy?" Cheryl asked softly but didn't get a response. Cheryl quietly stepped into the stall and came behind her partner's daughter. She touched her shoulder. "Hey? You all right?"

"No!" Stacy gulped. "I don't know what to do."

"I know, that Taylor can be a pill. He's blackballed some of the cops in here before." Cheryl said. Stacy looked at her anxiously. "Is there anything I can do that would help you?" Cheryl offered kindly.

"Get Dad in here?" Stacy asked with tears. Cheryl's face dropped.

"Stacy, I'm sorry. I don't think so." She said kindly.

"I have to talk to Dad, Cheryl! Please! I need to see _him._ " Stacy begged. "Please."

* * *

"Cheryl, I came as soon as you called." Steve said as he trotted quickly over to her. "What's going on? Is Stacy all right?"

"She's not hurt if that's what you mean." Cheryl replied. "But she's anxious to see you."

"Where is she?" Steve asked.

"In interrogation." Cheryl nodded in the direction of the room. "You don't worry about Newman. I'll handle him. You go ahead." She smiled.

"Thanks." Steve said, and walked briskly to the said room. He opened the door and peeked in side. "Stacy?" Steve spoke. Stacy turned around and gasped heavily when she saw him. It had been ages since she'd last seen her father, and though her heart leaped that he was actually here, the moment felt slightly awkward.

"Dad!" Stacy exclaimed. It was him, he was really here!

"Stace," Steve responded, quickly shutting the door, and came to her. He clasped her safely in a tight hug and she clutched his waist like a little child. Stacy breathed heavily as she felt his strong, protective arms around her, like cold water to a thirsty wanderer. It had been too long since the last time this had occurred.

"Oh, Dad. Where have you been?" Stacy cried.

"Shhh." Steve said quietly, biting his lip. He wished she hadn't asked that question. It ran deep on him. "You all right?" He asked softly. She shook her head. "What's the matter, honey? What's going on?"

Stacy gulped and bit her lip before speaking, rubbing the back of her neck. "Dad, I want to go home! I'm scared. I just wanna get out of here!" She cried. Steve's face fell and he stared at her empathetically. That was the answer he was afraid she'd say.

"I know, honey, and we're working as fast as we can to make sure you do." He said confidently.

"That's what I keep hearing, and I'm starving from it." Stacy stated in exasperation.

"I know, Stacy, but these things take time." Steve said. "Look, I know it's hard, but you've got to try to be patient." Stacy shook her head. Patience had never been her strong point.

"I'm not trying to be disrespectful, but that _is_ easy for you to say when you're not on the other side of the cell bars." Her voice was breaking up."I feel like I can't stay in here another night, Dad. I feel like I'm suffocating."

"Cheryl said there was some trouble." Steve stated. "What happened?" Stacy cringed.

"The prosecutor was here." She shuddered. "He...he...he..."

"Take a deep breath." Steve said. "Now take your time."

"He...he said that if I break down and confess to the murder," Stacy gulped hard, "if I confess, he'll...he'll go for life without parole instead of the death penalty." Steve hung his head and sighed heavily. He'd been trying so hard to prevent this. He hated that his daughter was bearing such an incredible decision on her young shoulders. This shouldn't be happening, but it was.

"What did your attorney say?" Steve asked.

"Not much." Stacy stated. "He said that the best we could hope and shoot for was a plea bargain. But Taylor said he won't go for that."

"So, what did _you_ tell him?" Steve prodded slowly. He knew his daughter was innocent, but he wanted to hear what difficult choice she had made in the midst of this whole mess. Stacy stared at him unhappily.

"What do you think?" She asked. "I'm not going to confess to something I didn't do!" She exclaimed. "Even if it was the easier alternative, it wouldn't be right. And, what's the use of getting a better deal, if you can't have it with a clear conscience?" Steve gazed at her warmly. Even though it had been a horrendous decision that he wished she'd never been put through, he was proud of his little girl for standing fast to the truth, no matter how painful it was. It was very painful right now!

"That's exactly what I would've done." Steve said.

"He said I don't have much choice." Stacy gulped. "I'm scared about the trial."

"I know you are, Stacy, but you shouldn't be." Steve said. "You didn't do anything wrong, so that means you've got nothing to hide. You don't have anything to worry about."

"Ho, yeah right!" Stacy exclaimed vehemently. "Just like Grandpa had nothing to hide when you were gunned down, right? He didn't do anything wrong, so he didn't have a thing to worry about. Ha! A lot of good that did him. We all know what came out of that time he told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth! Sometimes truth isn't enough." Stacy was trembling and shook her head vigorously. Steve came close behind her.

"Honey, you know that sometimes bad things still happen to good people. But that doesn't mean it'll stay that way forever." He said.

"Taylor said that if I didn't do anything wrong, I wouldn't be here in the first place." Stacy snarled. "They're just gonna look at the evidence and not be objectionable. And there's nothing I can say to make them think otherwise." Steve strongly gripped her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. She bristled with tension at the touch.

"Stacy, stop it." Steve ordered firmly. "Stop that right now."

"Dad," Stacy breathed heavily, " _please_ don't hold me like that!" Steve loosened his grip when he saw an expression on her face.

"I-I'm sorry, honey." Steve said. "You're putting God in a box, and that's the last thing you need to do right now."

"Dad...I'm scared. I'm _really_ scared." Stacy said shakily, staring at him pleadingly. "I don't...I _don't_ want to end up like Grandpa! I don't want this turn out the way it did for him!"

"It won't, Stace. I promise." Steve smiled confidently.

" _How_ do you know?" Stacy asked doubtfully.

"Stacy, we need to trust the Lord. You're letting your fears run your life and it's only making everything worse. Your grandpa had no one to help him that time, but you do! Remember that. I know you're very frightened after what happened to Dad," Steve calmly explained, "but it won't come to that. That time was different. Dad was in the middle of a crisis, and forced to fend for himself. If I hadn't been bed-ridden at the time, it never would've gone that far! This time, you have all of us to help, so you've got a chance!"

"Oh, Dad," Stacy's lips quivered and she choked down a sob. Steve pulled her to himself and she hid her face in his broad chest, weeping. "I'm just...so scared. I feel like I'm never gonna see home again. I feel like I'll never get out of here!"

"You _will_ get out of here. I promise." Steve said confidently. Stacy clung to him tighter. When he pulled back, he studied her keenly. She looked so drained, she looked...different. Not like the Stacy he knew. "So, how has the rest of your day been?" He asked.

"Ohhh." She groaned and shook her head, turning her back. "Marsha wouldn't leave me alone. She just kept saying things, and I couldn't get out of my cell away from her. I sharply turned my back to her, and she grabbed me by the arm." Steve squared his shoulders when he heard that.

"She what?" He sputtered. "What did you do? What happened?" Stacy glanced up at him miserably.

"She kept taunting me." She answered. "I...I wasn't sure if she intended to physically hurt me, but she wouldn't let go and it scared me, Dad. So I reared back and yanked my arm away, and...and I..."

"What?" Steve asked cautiously. "Just tell me what happened, Stacy. It's okay. Just tell me the truth." Stacy poured out the whole story, including Marsha getting hurt.

"I'm not mad at you, Stacy." Steve said with a sigh. "It's completely understandable. But how long has this been going on?"

"How long has what been going on?" Stacy furrowed her brows.

"Your cell mate." Steve grumbled. "How long has she been bothering you like this?" Stacy told him the usual way Marsha had been treating her, and gave him some examples from previous days. It wasn't easy to talk about, especially when it came to the parts about Marsha smearing the Sloans-particularly Steve and Mark-, but Stacy felt release being able to share it with somebody. Steve struggled to remain calm. The more he heard, the angrier he became. "And you've been dealing with this junk _every day?"_ He huffed with his hands on his hips.

"Well, some days are worse than others." Stacy mumbled.

"I don't care!" Steve growled. "I don't like the fact that you've been harassed all this time and nobody's done anything about it!"

"I've tried to stop her, but it seems impossible." Stacy grimaced and looked up at him."Dad, I...I...I understand that you can't take me out of this place right now. You need hard evidence to come up with a valid reason. I know that, okay?" She spoke in a sad voice. "But is there one thing you can do for me?"

"Name it." Steve said. "What is it, hon?"

"Get me a different cell!" Stacy pleaded. "Please, Dad. I can't stand it one more night with Marsha. I can't! I'll go insane if they make me. Dad, I'll survive in this place, and even try to wait it out as long as possible, but _only_ if I'm away from her! She makes me feel so...so..."

"Inferior?" Steve finished.

"More than that." Stacy said. "Really rotten. It's awful."

"Okay, okay," Steve said, patting her shoulder. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you!" Stacy sighed heavily.

"You won't be sleeping in the same cell with that jerk anymore, I guarantee it!" Steve snarled as he left the room. Stacy waited anxiously for him to come back. He was gone for half an hour. He was smiling when he came back in."Well, Stace, you won't have to sleep in the same room with her tonight." Steve said with satisfaction. "They're moving you to a different cell." Stacy sighed heavily in relief and shivered with giddiness, astounded at what had just been said to her. She couldn't believe it. She started laughing unnaturally.

"Oh, thank You, God." She whispered. "Thank You!" Then she looked at Steve who was smiling sadly. "Thank you, Dad! You have no idea what a weight has been lifted. You have no idea how happy I am to hear that!"

"I think I do." Steve corrected her, thinking back again on Malcolm Trainor and how he'd treated Mark. "And it was my pleasure. I'm sorry for everything you had to endure, hon, for how she's treated you. I wish I'd been told sooner. If I had, this never would've gone that far!"

"Thank you so much, Dad." Stacy smiled genuinely.

"Well, I don't want to, but I have to go." Steve sighed. Stacy frowned and struggled not to tear up.

"Okay." She said lowly.

"Come here." Steve said tenderly opening his arms and she hugged him tightly back. "Hey, maybe you'll get a decent night's sleep tonight, huh?" He asked cheerfully when she pulled back.

"That would be nice." Stacy nodded. She gulped, trying hard not to cry but the tears were welling up.

"You're gonna get out of here, hon, I promise!" Steve declared passionately. Stacy bit her lip.

"Just...don't...please don't wait so long before you come back." She cried. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too." Steve kissed the top of her head. "I'll be back." He said softly. "Hey," he turned her face up towards his, "I love you."

"Love you too." She whispered. He gave her one more bear hug, then opened the door.

"Hey, cheer up." He smiled. "You'll be out of here soon." Stacy nodded glumly. He closed the door. Stacy just constantly sighed. Right now, Steve felt actually happy, having accomplished _something_ to ease his child's terrible trial, something he hadn't been able to do for Mark. But this time he could and it made him feel so good.

However, Stacy, though inwardly happy that tonight would be different, was mostly unhappy right now. This was the first Steve had visited her in...how long had it been? A week?! And when would he come back and visit her again? When? How long before he came back? How long before she would see him again? She was beyond grateful that he had come, it had been an answered prayer. But what now? She was still scared. It looked like she was going down for murder with no redemption in sight...right now. Stacy half wished that she was being held captive by one of the criminals she and her family were trying to catch! She honestly felt that she'd rather go through that than this! At least then she'd know why she was fighting and who she was fighting against. She knew that her family would do everything possible to get help to her, and most of all, she'd know who was on her side! Here, she wasn't sure who to turn to. Cheryl tried to be there for her, but how much could she legally do? And Steve's superiors, did they believe her or not? She wasn't sure. The evidence certainly didn't give them reason to, but she hoped that their association with the Sloans would've overrun that. They had acted detached through this whole thing and she truly didn't know if they believed in her innocence or not. The only people that she knew who did believe her without a doubt, was her family.

* * *

Steve ran into Cheryl in the hall. "Hey, so how did it go?" She asked him with a smile, crossing her arms.

"It _ended_ better than when I first got here." Steve answered. "They're moving her into a different cell."

"Oh, good!" Cheryl sighed with relief. "It's about time!"

"What? You mean you knew about it?" Steve glared.

"Yes, and I tried to do something about it..." Cheryl responded tersely, "a _long_ time ago. But Newman told me that it isn't our policy to make special accommodations for any prisoner, no matter who they are." Steve's upper lip curled up like a dog.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Steve huffed.

"Steve, this is a police station and a jail." Cheryl told him calmly. "We can only do so much. Believe me, I've tried to help Stacy while she's been in here. I even told her that if she needed anything, to tell me." Steve bit his lip and exhaled heavily.

He said quietly. "Thanks for trying to help." He said quietly. "I shouldn't have jumped on you like that. I didn't know."

"Forget it." Cheryl smiled, nudging his arm. "Hey, I'm not the only one trying to do something. Dr. Travis tried to slip in some BBQ Bob's to her."

"What?" Steve rose his eyebrows. "Oh, he didn't!"

"He told me that it was for you, but he wasn't fooling anybody. You should've seen the look of rejection written all over him. My guess is she didn't accept his token." Cheryl explained. Steve grinned. It was just like Jessie to try to cheer up a friend, but if Stacy had been trying to avoid trouble, it was also just like her to refuse Jessie's gift.

"When did this happen?" Steve asked curiously.

"Some time last week." Cheryl said. Steve shook his head.

"Well, thanks for trying to help." He said.

"Don't mention it. And, hey. Don't worry about Stacy. I'll escort her to her new cell myself, and make sure it's a safe place."

" _Thank you."_ Steve said fervently. "I'd really appreciate that."

"And don't you worry about Newman. I've taken care of him good."

"Thanks." Steve smiled. "I owe you for this one."

"I'm gonna hold you to that." Cheryl warned as she walked away.

* * *

"Lt.?" Chief Masters called Steve out in the hall from his office.

"Sir?" Steve responded.

"Can you come in here for a minute?" Masters asked.

" _Sure,"_ Steve answered suspiciously. As he entered the office, he expected to get a hard chewing out for going against Newman's orders. "You wished to see me?" Steve asked uncomfortably.

"Yes I did." Masters said, removing his glasses and sitting on his desk with his arms folded. Steve quietly awaited his reprimand. "How are you doing, Sloan?" Masters asked casually. Steve glanced up at him nervously.

"I've been better." He muttered.

Masters grinned slyly. "So, have you turned up anything new on the Loomis case?" Steve hung his head.

"Not really." He shook his head.

"Did you do like Newman said and take a day off to clear your head?" Masters gazed thoughtfully at him.

Steve figured he was just trying to draw out from Steve that he'd visited Stacy against orders, but so far he hadn't given any indication that he was displeased. "I've...I've been too busy." Steve responded as convincingly as possible. "Things on my mind, and too much stuff to do. You know?" Masters stared at him with his famous blank expression.

"How is Stacy?" He asked. Steve looked up at him timidly. Did he know? Maybe he was just being courteous, but Steve strongly sensed that wasn't the case.

"She's holding out." Steve answered as honestly as possible. "She's scared, and I heard that she's had a rough time in here. She's being moved to a different cell." Steve hung his head. "It...it's the least that I can do."

"How was your visit?" Masters quipped, raising his eyebrows. Steve gulped and felt his face grow hot. He was busted, and would definitely be pulled from the case now! But, how could he deny it? He couldn't, and Masters knew he wouldn't. Steve stared guiltily at the floor.

"It was fine." He mumbled. "She needed someone to talk to, _that's_ why I came." Steve grew silent, preparing for the chewing out that he knew was coming. "I wanted to make sure she was all right."

"That's what we're here for, Lt." Masters said gruffly. "We told you we'd take care of everything." Steve bit his lip hard.

"Yes, I realize that, sir." He grunted. "And I know that I was ordered to not see her if I wanted to stay on the case. But sometimes my being a father takes precedence over my job." He said confidently.

"That can be a dangerous combination, Sloan." Masters remarked. Steve was one of his very best cops, but he'd known him long enough to understand that when family took priority over the job in Steve's mind, it was impossible to convince him of otherwise. He truly admired the detective's tenacious protection and devotion to family. "And one that can get you into a lot of trouble if you don't watch your step." Steve just nodded, but didn't say anything. "I really should suspend you as of right now, you understand that, don't you?"

"Yes, sir." Steve said bravely.

"But I don't think that will be necessary." Masters grinned. Steve glanced up at him. "Get out of here, Sloan. You have work to do."

"So...that's it?" Steve sputtered, flabbergasted.

"Do I have to tell you twice to leave my office?" Masters scolded.

"Uh..." Steve's jaw hung.

"If you must know, Detective Banks came to me when your daughter requested to see you." Masters explained. "She said she wasn't even gonna bother with Newman. I gave her clearance to let you in to see Stacy." Steve gaped, blown away.

"Oh. I don't know what to say, sir." He shrugged.

"How about ' _thank you, sir; and I realize that I shouldn't expect this again'."_ Masters replied. "I made an exception for you today, Sloan. Once, but don't get used to it."

"No, sir." Steve agreed, smiling wryly. "Thank you. Well, I'll be going now."

"Close the door on your way out." Masters huffed, putting his glasses on.

Steve obeyed as he departed. He was grateful for the unexpected kindness that had been shown him, and he was even more grateful to know that Stacy wouldn't have to be rooming with her sneering cell mate anymore. He felt a sense of small triumph for having accomplished something to help her. And he was still on the case!

* * *

 **The next chapters will be more about the case. Will they ever solve it? Who is Myra Loomis? I'm strongly tempted to just finish this story and then revise parts of it. I'm tired of seeing it sit around uncompleted.**


	21. Chapter 21 Lean Not on Yourself Alone

Tanis didn't have much of anything to turn up on Henry Stilton, except that he liked to broadcast himself.

It was late afternoon, and Steve decided to go down to the beach to try to get his thoughts together while Mark and Kat got the beach house ready for company. Their friends were coming over to see if they could come up with anything. Steve stood down near the water, letting the wind tousle his hair. The breeze was a welcome refresher. Ordinarily, Steve would be focused on the case, but the memory of Mark being sentenced to Death Row and his father's helplessness, Steve's recent nightmare that he hadn't shared with anybody, and his determination not to let his daughter go through the same as Mark were wearing him down. Anyone who knew Steve Sloan well, knew that he had a habit of trying to do too much on his own strength, carrying heavy loads on his own shoulders especially the pain of his loved ones, and feeling responsible for difficult things he had no control over. And this time was no exception.

Steve exhaled deeply, letting nature try to brush away his troubles. He pondered over everything that had been happening in their family. They'd all been through so much together as a tightly knit family over the years: they'd seen each other through hostage situations, sickness, grief, false accusations, kidnappings, disease, betrayal, near-death experiences, and even criminal charges. Out of all those messes they'd all survived together. How come _this_ situation made Steve feel so lousy in being able to do bring closure? Was he looking in the wrong place? Did he not have what it took to accomplish it? Was...was he relying on himself too much?

Steve hung his head. He grimaced and gazed up at the sunny sky. "Why, God?" He groaned. "Why? Lord, I love my girls, both of them...so much. And it, it would break me to lose them, or my dad! I-I know that I have a tendency to rush ahead of You at times because I want things to get solved exactly when _I_ want them done, and I'm sorry for that. But, it's so hard, especially when we're running out of time.

'God, I've seen my daughters get sick before, I've seen them get hurt in ways I never wanted to watch happen, I've even seen them in danger and their lives on the line before, and I'm telling You, it was torture! But _this?_ I've always been a straight shooter, so I'm gonna lay it on the line: Lord, every day we lose without finding the real murderer could mean the gas chamber or lethal injection for Stacy! You _do_ know that, don't You? Please, not this way! She shouldn't even be in there. And the harder I try to stop it, the more likely it looks like she's definitely going down for murder. I don't know what to do or even what to look for anymore!'"

Steve bit his lip hard. "Lord, it seems like we just keep running into dead ends. Lord, I can't let Stacy stay in jail! She belongs _here, with us._ Why haven't You shown us who the real killer is? God, my little girl is stuck in jail, and I've done everything I can to get her out, but it's not enough and it seems like it's going nowhere! God, don't let this happen. Don't let my daughter end up like my dad did! What did she ever do to deserve this? She's a good kid. She loves You and she cares a lot about others, just like her mother and her sister. God, help us, please! Just give us some help. We've tried our hardest but we can't do it alone. Please, God, just..." Steve clasped his hand over his mouth to stifle a sob. "God, help my little girl. Please! Please save my daughter. It seems like this time I can't do it. Bring her back to us, with her name cleared! I need Your help, I can't do it by myself. I've tried, but...I just can't. Please...please...just give us _some_ help."


	22. Chapter 22 Theories

Mark, Steve, Kat, Amanda, Jessie, Cheryl, and Tanis were all gathered in the Sloan's dining room at the table, trying to put their heads together. "I talked to Janice Loomis again and so did Cheryl." Mark said. "As soon as this case is closed, she's pulling up stakes, taking what was originally hers, and going back to her hometown."

"That's right." Cheryl added. "So, I think we can rule her out as a suspect."

"I'm not convinced, Dad." Steve huffed.

"Steve, think about it: where and how could Mrs. Loomis possibly get a hold of the knife and leave only Stacy's fingerprints on it?"

"Maybe she hired someone to kill her husband, while she had an airtight alibi making it look like she wanted divorce when she wanted more."

"Nope." Tanis disagreed. "Her records don't show any substantial withdrawals or deposits before, during, or after the murder." Steve shrugged.

"How about Henry Stilton?" Amanda offered with a hint of anticipation.

"Nah." Steve pouted. "I was hoping it would be him. But, I rechecked his testimony and moves the night of the murder, nothing to tie him to it. He may be greedy, but he's too self-broadcasted and stupid to commit a murder to get what he wants."

"He'd have to slow down and quit looking at himself in the mirror to pull off a killing." Amanda rolled her eyes and Kat snickered.

"What about Loomis's secretary?" Jessie suggested.

"Dead end." Cheryl muttered. "I checked her out. She'd only been working for Loomis for two months after he drove away his other secretary. She hated the job. She's now working as an activities director at the high school on sixteenth. And nothing in her bank accounts that looks like a tremendous nest-egg. In fact, the most she has in savings is $10,000."

"Agh." Jessie growled. "Come on! I mean there's gotta be someone we've overlooked who has the answer! Man, if only the killer had been courteous enough to leave a calling card in the lobby when they left the front door open."

"That's it!" Mark blurted out.

"That's _what?"_ Tanis and Steve asked.

"The door was open. The door was open!" Mark cheered. "That proves right there that Stacy is innocent. She said it was open when she arrived, which means the killer was there first and either left when he heard Stacy coming or had left just before she arrived."

"There's only one problem with that, Dad." Steve sighed. "That's not good enough. That's mere hearsay."

"Steve, you know that Stacy wouldn't lie, even to protect herself." Jessie interjected.

"I know that, Jess. But in the eyes of the police, it's only speculation and a suspect's way of trying not to incriminate herself. It's just not enough."

"But, if Stacy's prints were not on the security code buttons, and how would she know what the code was, and, Steve, you said that there were no signs of a break-in?" Mark continued. Steve nodded. "Means that the killer had to have had and known the code when they entered first."

"And before the murder, Stacy had only ever been to his house once," Kat spoke up, "when he hosted a party for his committee and employees." Mark nodded and furrowed his brows hard.

"What are you thinking about, Mark?" Amanda asked curiously as she noticed he was staring off into space in concentration.

"You know," he said, "Sherlock Holmes once said that ' _it's often easy to mistake something as true merely because it's obvious. The truth is only arrived at, by the painstaking process of eliminating the untrue'."_

"Meaning?" Tanis asked.

"Well, one thing's for sure." Mark spoke up. "Whoever killed Horace Loomis had to know Stacy had that knife."

"Which means?" Kat raised her eyebrows.

"That it had to be someone at her workplace!" Jessie's eyes lit up.

"Exactly." Mark smiled. "It had to be someone who knew Horace's habits, his work schedule, and someone who hated him as much as everyone else did, if not more so."

"Well, that sure narrows it down." Kat remarked. Amanda rolled her eyes.

Jesse smacked his forehead. "Shoot." He muttered. "How could I have been so stupid? Whoever the killer was, they must have some sort of scar on their throat!"

"You know, Jesse, you're right!" Mark cried excitedly. "For that brooch to get blood on it, Horace Loomis either in anger or self-defense had to have snatched it from his killer's throat! That would explain the blood, and especially when Stacy had no cuts on her when she was arrested."

"The brooch had blood on it, indicating a struggle," Cheryl said, "but Stacy didn't have a single scratch or cut on her."

"And if the killer's throat was cut, they'd need medical help." Amanda added.

"Darn! I _cannot_ believe we didn't think of this before!" Mark shook his head in disbelief.

"I guess we were all so taken aback the way all the evidence kept piling up." Kat sighed.

"Well, I'll call the hospitals and urgent care facilities and see if any of them had a case of a throat cut the night of the murder." Amanda smiled impishly.

"Let us know what you find!" Mark begged.

"You bet!" Amanda replied.

"So, what are we gonna do, Dad?" Steve asked, finally beginning to feel an intense anticipation that maybe they were actually closing in on ending this whole mess.

"We are going to reconstruct Stacy's workplace the day of the murder!" Mark answered. "And we're gonna need some help from Bob. Look at these photos I got from the PI that Janice hired." Mark said.

"Mmm-hmm. So?" Steve raised an unconvinced eyebrow.

"I must say, Sloan, if I didn't know you guys so good, I'd swear it was your daughter sitting there with the leech." Tanis said.

"From the back and the profile, sure." Steve grunted. "But up close, you can tell. What kind of observance training did this young stuffed shirt get? I mean, look. From far away, yeah, but up close you can tell it's not Stacy."

"Steve, he's fresh out of the academy. This was his first big case as a new investigator." Mark said.

"Well, unless we find a bogus or double Stacy Sloan out there, it's gonna be difficult to pull scrape this tooth decay out." Cheryl sighed. Mark's jaw dropped.

"Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa..." He said in that voice that always meant his answers had been clarified. "We've been looking backwards the whole time!" He exclaimed. Everyone stared at each other in confusion.

"Mark, what is it?" Jessie's eyes lit up.

"Grandpa?" Kat asked eagerly.

"Bogus. Double! Don't you see?" Mark beamed.

" _Uh...nooo,"_ Jessie gritted his teeth nervously.

"Look, we know this girl in the picture is not Stacy, right?" Mark pointed out.

"I believe the vote on that is unanimous, yes." Tanis nodded, taking the words right out of Steve's mouth.

"We know that whoever killed Loomis had to be in the office at the paper the day of the murder, and beforehand to know that Stacy had motive and the knife."

"Yeah, and that they had to have the security code..." Kat added.

"Right. Plus, we haven't been able to find where all the extra money goes to." Mark said.

"Soo..." Steve probed, wishing Mark would just tell them.

"There you have it." Mark smiled cockily.

"You _do know_ what planet he's on, right?" Tanis asked Steve hopefully.

"I gave up on that years ago!" Steve shook his head.

"It's like Cheryl said," Mark continued, "unless there is another Stacy Sloan out there, we're nowhere."

"And this means..." Kat tried to prod.

"Bogus, double...our mysterious Myra Loomis!" Mark finished with satisfaction. The others were still a bit lost.

"Dad, _what_ are you saying?" Steve asked in exasperation.

"I think Amanda's phone call will confirm my deduction, and then I'll tell you!" Mark smirked.

* * *

They all waited anxiously with baited breath while Amanda made those important phone calls. After ten minutes, she returned to the dining room from the patio outside. Her face was glowing. Steve, Mark, Jesse, Tanis, Cheryl, and Kat all gazed at her eagerly. "Did you find something?" Jesse asked zealously.

"Did I ever!" Amanda announced smirking, with her hands on her hips. She was holding a couple sheets of paper.

"Well?" Steve asked impatiently but also excitedly. Amanda walked up to them and handed Mark the paper.

"Ladies and gentlemen?" Amanda beamed. "I'd like to introduce you to Horace Loomis's murderer!" They all gazed then their jaws dropped as they read the name of the patient on the paper who had been treated for a nicked throat.

"Seriously?!" Kat gaped. "Are you kidding me?!"

"WOW!" Jesse blurted out.

" _How_ did we miss that?" Tanis shook her head.

"I'm blown away." Cheryl said, wide-eyed.

"I don't believe it!" Steve exclaimed. "Are you sure?"

"Positive." Amanda said. "The timing, the location, the injury, it all adds together smoothly for just around the time of Horace's murder. _And,_ just take a closer look at the patient's _blood type!"_ Amanda pointed to another slot on the paper.

"A _negative!"_ Mark cheered. "Good work, Amanda!" He kissed her cheek.

"I say we take this information to Newman and request a search warrant." Steve gloated. He couldn't begin to express how good and relieved and angry and thrilled he felt at this moment. Tanis, Cheryl, and Amanda all patted him on the back.

"All this time," Kat shook her head, still stunned by this new development, "All this time Stacy has been rotting in jail for something _she_ didn't do! And all this time, it was..."

* * *

 **So, who do you think the killer is? I know, I know, I'm being evasive, but all the clues will fall into place brought into the light in the next chapter. I promise!**


	23. Chapter 23 The Truth Comes Out

**I've FINALLY gotten this chapter up! It's been how long since I last updated? Sorry, it took me this long to piece this one together! But finally, we get to meet our killer! Who do you think it is?**

* * *

Steve was easily losing his patience as Captain Newman seemed to be taking his very sweet time, _very thoroughly_ studying over the evidence that was before him. After Amanda's declaration, the gang had split up and it had taken them two hours to come up with the rest of the evidence they needed, the evidence that Captain Newman was now going over. Tanis just stood there, stone-faced with occasional glances to Chief Masters who stood behind Newman and just watched everything that transpired. Cheryl and Mark stood next to each other, waiting and waiting. Steve, however, was fidgeting and pursing his lips to keep from spouting.

Newman finally moved! He slowly pulled his glasses down to the edge of his nose and skeptically glanced up at the questioning eyes glued at him. "This is the best you can come up with?" He asked dryly.

"It's all there, sir." Tanis answered before Steve could blow a fuse.

"Once we knew where to look, it all came together." Cheryl added.

"I'm assuming _you_ were the one who figured it out." Newman stared knowingly straight at Mark.

"Well, I wouldn't say that." Mark chuckled, while Steve rolled his eyes. "It was a group effort, but it all makes perfect sense to me."

" _Yeah."_ Newman grunted.

"Sir, we didn't just cook this all up." Steve spoke abruptly, wanting to get a move on. "Everything fits and is irrefutable."

"You are _sure that_ this person is the killer?" Newman asked emphatically.

"Yes, sir!" Everyone answered. "We're sure." Tanis and Steve added. Newman leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh, prolonging the awaited grant.

 _Come on already!_ Steve thought to himself. He knew that his superior needed to be sure and thorough, but it felt as if Newman was deliberately dragging out this check over. _Just give us the okay and we'll go pick up the killer within an hour!_

"You've got your evidence." Newman said. "All right. Set up a stakeout and bring in Loomis's murderer." He said... _finally!_ "But you better be right."

"No sweat." Tanis grinned.

"We'll deliver the killer to you within the hour!" Steve declared, anxious to go. Newman exchanged glances with Masters, who hadn't said a word the whole time.

"Go." Newman grumbled. Steve and the ladies walked out briskly, but Mark lingered. "Something else you want, Doctor?" Newman asked.

"Well, Captain, with all these new developments and your task force out to pick up the real murderer, I thought this would be a good time to make arrangements for Stacy's release!" Mark smiled widely. Captain Newman exhaled heavily. He knew Mark was right, but it wasn't easy having to digest so much humble pie.

* * *

"Hello, Mrs. Loomis?" The bank manager called on the phone.

"Yes? This is she." The lady answered.

"This is Mr. Grady, manager of the Wilson Bank. I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's a problem with your safety deposit box."

"What? What are you talking about?!"

"I know it's nuts, Mrs. Loomis, but it appears that another lady with your same last name and the ID number to the box came in this morning to clear it out."

"That can't be! That's impossible!" The woman argued.

"We have a new teller, who was working the counter this morning but didn't know it wasn't you. He let her clear it out. He handed it all over, cash! There isn't a single dime left."

"He did NOT!" The woman screamed. "Where is he?! I'll be over there in ten minutes!"

* * *

A very ticked young lady barged into the bank and stormed to the manager's office without knocking. "All right, Mr. Grady! What the heck is going on?!" She demanded. "How could you let a little blockhead let someone just make off with my money?!"

"Mrs. Loomis, I'm sorry. It wasn't my fault." Mr. Grady shook his head casually.

"You get your little teller's hide in here now! I want my money, every penny of it right now!" Mrs. Loomis growled. Mr. Grady raised his eyebrows and paged his secretary.

"Yes, this is Mr. Grady. Send in our new recruit, Mr. Harvey." He said. A few minutes later, 'Mr. Harvey', Jesse Travis stepped into the office.

"Mr. Grady, you wanted to see me?" Jesse asked curiously.

"I do, Jesse." Mr. Grady nodded. Mrs. Loomis's eyes bulged.

"You pig head!" She snarled at Jesse.

"I beg your pardon?" Jesse asked innocently.

"You idiot! You let an imposter take what was rightfully mine! That was my money you just handed over. Well, I want you to hand it all to me right now, cash!" Mrs. Loomis growled.

"Ma'am. Excuse me. Who are you?"

"I am Mrs. Myra Loomis, you fool!"

"Ohh! So _you're_ the Myra Loomis I've heard about!" Jesse grinned. She had no idea that he was wired with a hidden microphone, and so was Mr. Grady. "Hey, by the way, how's your neck?"

"My...my neck?" Mrs. Loomis frowned in confusion, her hand instantly going to her throat.

"Yeah. I heard you had a nasty cut. Could've been very serious. But, I guess you got lucky." Jesse shrugged.

"Enough already!" Mrs. Loomis snapped. "I want to see that safety deposit box!"

"You mean, uh... _this_ safety deposit box, don't you, Mrs. Loomis?" Mark grinned as he entered the office, with Steve at his side. Steve was giving his cold cop stare.

"Dr. Sloan! W-what are you doing here? Yes, that is my safety deposit box!" Mrs. Loomis blurted out.

"Well, actually, this is a copy. You see, the real box is still here and all the money is in it." Mark said. Mrs. Loomis didn't know whether to laugh in relief or curse.

"I...I don't understand." She shook her head. Cheryl emerged from the back door and raised her hand to Mrs. Loomis's face. She peeled a clear wrapping away with blue eye shadow and red lipstick and also pulled off the wig of long blonde hair. "Hey!" Mrs. Loomis cried in horror. "What the heck do you think you're doing!?"

"Just revealing your true colors... _Mavis Anders!"_ Steve told her.

"Or how should we say, Mrs. Myra Loomis." Mark grinned.

"You...you...this is absurd!" Mavis exclaimed.

"You killed Horace Loomis." Mark simply stated. "He was your husband, wasn't he?"

"But you two separated during the marriage in Las Vegas." Steve continued. "After his scandals there, you pulled up stakes without a trace, changed your name, started using an alias, started out completely fresh." Mavis was stunned and didn't say a word.

"You were blackmailing him, weren't you?" Jesse added. "You knew about his schemes at Bannerman Construction. He recognized you when you came to work at the paper for him.

You threatened to expose him if he didn't pay up. So, you kept bleeding him dry in order for you to stay quiet." Steve said. "He didn't count on you becoming employed at his workplace as an editor, did he?"

"He knew who you were, so you set up a plan: he pays you a substantial sum or you go to the press and authorities with all that you knew about his scandals." Mark put in. "But the night of the murder what happened? You demanded everything at once and he refused to pay?"

"I was fed up with him!" Mavis snarled. "But that doesn't mean I killed him! You can't prove that! The only thing you can prove me guilty of is blackmail."

"Actually, that's not true." Mark shook his head calmly. Amanda walked in and handed him a file. Mark put his reading glasses on. "These are your records," he said, "from the Urgent Care facility in Venice, near Horace Loomis's neighborhood. You went to his house-you were still his wife, so you had the security code-, you _were_ fed up, and told him to pay up or else. He was furious, wasn't he? Everyone knew Horace's volcanic temper, and when you pushed his buttons that night, he grabbed you by the throat, and in his rage he ripped the brooch off, cutting your throat. So, you stabbed him, but you were bleeding and had to get out. So you fled as fast as you could, forgetting to close the door and completely unaware that Stacy was coming unexpectedly. The timing of the arrival on the security system and on the medical records on your arrival and departure at the urgent care facility coincide with everything I've said."

"You still can't prove that."

"You told the doctors there that your cat scratched you too hard." Amanda said with her arms crossed. "But we checked, you don't even have a canary! And your blood type on the brooch we found matches perfectly. Stacy had no abrasions of any kind."

"Horace was feeling the heat, wasn't he?" Steve growled. "You were pricking him for more and more money, and when he refused to give it, you decided to get rid of him."

"My fingerprints weren't on the knife." Mavis shrugged.

"Of course not, no. They weren't. You used gloves." Mark sighed. "It was a dinner knife from my home, so naturally, it would have Stacy's fingerprints on it. She lost it at lunch the day before the murder. She couldn't find it, not knowing that you had swiped it when you decided to kill Horace."

"That's a bunch of bologna!" Mavis retorted.

"You met with him at Tinelli's the night before the murder. Wearing your disguise."

"I was there the night _of_ the murder."

"The clerk who waited on you the night before the murder didn't come to work the next day. And so you paid his substitute to say that he saw you. Oh, and more than that," Mark grinned, "the security cameras at the restaurant prove you were not there the night of the murder."

"You can't prove it was me with Horace." Mavis gulped, her face showing more and more anxiety.

"Actually we can!" Jesse told her. He handed an envelope to Mark.

"Thank you, Jesse." Mark said. "You see, Janice Loomis, the second Mrs. Loomis, found out that Horace was seeing someone else, so she hired a private investigator. He took these pictures at this restaurant and other places where you met with Horace. The same disguise that Cheryl just pulled off of you."

"From a far view and from behind, it would be easy for someone to mistake you for Stacy." Steve grumbled. "But one thing you didn't count on was your wardrobe."

"I, uh, had these pictures blown up." Mark explained. "If you look closely, on this particular visit, you're wearing the brooch, the one Jesse mistakenly found with blood on it at the crime scene. Same brooch." Mark said.

Mavis grimaced. She glared at Mark. "You have it all figured out, don't you, Dr. Sherlock Holmes."

"The money in your safety deposit box sums up to beyond millions." Steve said. "It's the money he stole from the people he swindled isn't it?"

Mavis narrowed her eyes at Steve. "He was a blood-sucking leech!" She snapped. "Didn't care about anything but himself. He pulled some schemes when we were in Vegas. He tried to hide it from me, but when I found out, you know what he did? He told me to quit being such a whiner! He acted like it was no big deal! I tried to get him to see that it was wrong, but he just blew up at me and threatened me not to tell. I demanded a divorce, but he'd never hear of it! So, when he got into more trouble, I packed my bags and left. I removed all my bank accounts, everything, and left where he would never find me!"

"How'd you come to work for him?" Cheryl asked.

"He made the news when he weaseled his way up to director of _The Los Angeles Times._ So, I became employed and took him completely by surprise when I showed up in his office." Mavis grinned. "I found out that he was married again. And after doing some snooping of my own, I found out how he'd hurt those people at Bannerman Construction. But this time I decided to get even with him. I told him I knew all about his newest crimes. I told him that if he didn't want his blasted goose cooked that I'd need more money. I set the payment plan, and always demanded more if he didn't follow through. He was ticked but completely scared every time I showed my face around the paper."

"That explains why you were able to tolerate him when none of his other employers could." Steve said. "You were lording it over his head, and you had to act as mere acquaintances or you'd blow the whistle on him."

"You're right." Mavis said.

"But why kill him?" Jesse furrowed his brows. "You had the money, you could've easily just exposed him!"

"It wouldn't be enough." Mavis pffted with her lips. "I was watching him closely. I knew that Stacy was investigating the Bannerman Construction scenario, that's why Horace blew up at her. He was afraid that she knew he was behind it. I was ticked with the way he treated her. I confronted him later after lunch and told him to give me more money. I even offered to convince Stacy to let someone else handle the Bannerman Construction case. But she was a Sloan, and that was enough to scare him. He said no. I had the knife. So, I went to his house that night to confront him one more time. Again, he refused. He was in a rage. I called him all sorts of names and told him It was the last straw. So, I stabbed him and he grabbed me by the throat, ripping my brooch off. I fled to get emergency medical attention, and that was the end of it."

"You were going to walk off with all that money, but you couldn't until after the will and financial estates were settled. And all this time, you let poor Stacy take the fall for what you did!" Amanda glared. Steve was equally angry.

"I was going to offer to chip in for her bail, if that stupid judge hadn't denied it." Mavis rolled her eyes. "Stacy's a nice girl, but so naive. I thought with you as her grandpa, the infamous Dr. Mark Sloan, you'd figure it out quickly and prove her innocent and she'd be released. Though I admit, I never expected you to trace it all to me!"

Steve's eyes narrowed darkly. "Don't look at me that way, Lt. Sloan." Mavis huffed. "Heck, I did this city a favor by eliminating that piece of trash! You should thank me. It was his idea for me to disguise myself as young and pretty when we had our 'conferences', so no one would ever suspect what we were really up to. If he was accused of having an affair, who cares? He had money and could prove himself clean...over _that!_ A bogus scandal, his money and lawyer would take care of it. A divorce? Heaven forbid! That would make him look bad. A bigamist? He said it would make a good laugh. And he had his attorney Scott Beattie do a stupendous job of insulating our little secret. He was a leech, a two-faced hypocrite who deserved to rot in prison. Heck, I'm glad I did it!"

Everyone was silent. They shared her anger at Horace Loomis. What she said about him was all true. But that didn't make what she did right. Steve spoke up, what he'd been wanting to say for days! "Myra Loomis? You're under arrest for the murder of your husband, Horace Loomis. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." He placed the handcuffs on her wrist, and he felt a surge of electric satisfaction as he heard the blessed click when they locked! This closed the case! Stacy was innocent, and now he had finally proven it with the usual help of his family and friends.

"Would you like to do the honors?" Cheryl asked him.

" _Gladly!"_ Steve exclaimed, taking Myra by the arm. "I'll see you guys later." He smiled at Mark, Jesse, and Amanda. And he happily led her out to the backseat of the police car.


	24. Chapter 24 Set Free!

Stacy sat quietly on her cot, wondering what her family was up to, but hoping and praying desperately that they were making progress. If only she could do something to distract her mind with. Oh, how she missed trying to solve murders with her family. She heard heavy footsteps come from around the corner, clip-clopping on the tile floor and she knew it was one of the guards. She'd grown accustomed to the routine sound effects of the prison wards. A familiar voice broke her thoughts. "Miss Sloan?" A dry voice addressed her. Stacy looked up to see Corporal Jeffers.

"Yes?" She asked timidly.

"Come with me." He said and unlocked the iron bar door. Stacy slowly rose to her feet, and obeyed. Jeffers took her arm and started leading her down the hall.

"What is it?" Stacy asked.

"Ssh. Just walk." Jeffers grunted. Stacy shrugged and just kept walking. "The Captain wants to see you."

 _Captain Newman?_ Stacy furrowed her brows. Her mind was a swirling whirlwind. As they entered the lobby, they were met by Sgt. Barnes. He smiled widely at her, which confused her, though she was grateful to see a friendly face!

"Hello, Miss Sloan." He said cheerfully and walked with them. Stacy's mind raced with hundreds of questions, ones she wanted to ask, but was afraid to ask, ones she wanted answers to, but then was afraid of the answers. Barnes' tone and smile _had_ seemed genuine, and not sly, but she had no clue what was going on. Jeffers knocked on Captain Newman's door, then they entered. Inside waiting was the captain, Chief Masters, and...and Mark! Stacy's eyes widened and were glued to her grandpa. He smiled cheerfully.

"Hi, Stacy." He greeted happily, his blue eyes twinkling.

"H-hi," She stammered. "W-what are you doing here? W-what's going on?" She asked anxiously. Mark wouldn't be this cheerful if something was wrong. She was extremely thankful he was here, but where was Steve? If something was up, shouldn't _he_ be here? Jeffers sighed and rubbed his temples.

"Good news, Miss Sloan." Barnes chimed in.

"Miss Sloan...Stacy," Captain Newman grunted from his chair, folding his hands on his desk. "We're all here to inform you that, due to new evidence that has been brought to our attention, you are hereby released from custody and are free to go home." He explained. Stacy's jaw dropped in shock and her eyes looked like they were literally going to pop out of her head!

"W...w..." She stammered. "WHAT?!" She managed to gasp. Then she gulped and cautiously asked, "What exactly does that mean? D-do you mean _temporary_ custody, until the trial or do you mean that I'm... _really_ free?"

"He means the real thing, Stacy!" Mark cheered. Stacy gazed at him intently, wondering if she'd heard wrong. "You're coming home!" She glanced at Chief Masters out of the corner of her eye.

"You mean...I can actually go home?!" She blurted out. "You mean...I don't have to come back here?!"

"Unless you want to pay us a return visit." Chief Masters grinned with his arms crossed.

"We found the real killer, Stacy." Mark said proudly. "And we have all the proof we need to convince the court."

"And Janice Loomis has agreed with the DA to withdraw from pressing the murder charges against you." Newman added. "As far as we are concerned, the case against you is dismissed, so you're free to go any time."

Stacy was ecstatic. She didn't know what to say, she trembled with incredible relief and exhaustion. It was over! She was no longer being charged with murder, and she could go home right this minute! "Can we leave right now, Grandpa?" She begged.

"Absolutely!" Mark exclaimed. "Here are your clothes and things, honey." He handed her a duffel bag.

"Thanks! C-can I go change first? Please? First thing I want to do is get out of this old thing! Can you wait for a minute, Grandpa?"

"Sure. Go ahead." He laughed, waving her off. Stacy smiled widely and quickly departed. She was led through the release process and then she raced to the ladies' restroom and locked herself into a cubicle. She panted heavily but happily. She was getting out of this place! Her own 'new' clothes felt welcoming, and so fresh after wearing that same orange jumpsuit day and night for weeks. She soon returned to the captain's office, dressed like her old self, except she looked thinner, and tired, and her hair had seen better days.

"I'm ready, Grandpa. Are you?" She asked impatiently.

"Let's go." Mark nodded and walked to her.

"Stacy, may I just express my deepest apologies for all the inconvenience and distress we caused you through all this." Masters stated. "I'm truly sorry for it all." Stacy looked at him seriously and cleared her throat.

"You...you were all doing your job." She said dejectedly, hanging her head. "But thank you. I appreciate your apology. It's...it's a whole different story when you're on the other side of the bars." She gulped. "I'm just glad my _dad_ and family were able to find out the truth before the trial! They _don't_ have hunches for nothing. I'm sure I'll be seeing you around. Now, I just want to go home!"

"Well, come on then." Mark said and placed his hand on her shoulder, and together they walked out of the office, towards the exit. They were almost out! Just as they almost reached the door, three other figures entered before them. There was Steve, Cheryl, and...and Mavis Anders. They were both gripping her forearms and she was in handcuffs! Stacy halted and gaped.

"Mavis? Dad? What..." She began.

"You're looking at Horace Loomis's _real_ murderer, Stacy." Cheryl stated firmly. Stacy's jaw dropped.

"What? Mavis?" She sputtered.

"It's all true, Stace." Steve grunted with satisfaction. "She confessed to everything." Stacy stepped close to her coworker.

"Mavis...it was you?" She repeated. " _You_ killed Loomis? And you let _me_ take the wrap for it?"

Mavis shook her head. "I never intended for you to get the blame, Stacy. Believe me! I'd never try to hurt you...ever." Stacy glared.

"Really? Then why didn't you come out and confess everything?" She growled. She was filled with astonishment that the killer had been someone she'd never expected. But at the same time now, she was angry at how her so-called friend all this time never came forward, and let Stacy rot in jail for no reason! "You said you'd never hurt me, but do you have _any_ idea what kind of life it's been here, being accused and charged with a murder I _didn't_ commit?! Do you realize _what_ would've happened if they'd convicted me on something I'm _not_ responsible for? How could you?" Steve nodded behind Mavis, happy that his daughter was standing up for herself after all the guff she'd been forced to take. She was voicing out his own thoughts right now, saving him the trouble.

"What are you whining about, Stacy? I did this city a favor by eliminating that scum." Mavis said vehemently. "I did _you_ a favor! He was a public bloodsucking leech who stole from many people, and he was going to steal from you too. So, I actually helped you. Don't you see that?"

Stacy's eyes narrowed and she set her jaw. "No. No, I can't." She muttered. "Not when I have to take the fall for something someone else did!"

Mavis shrugged. "Well, it's a free country. A person's entitled to their own opinion."

"Not where you're going!" Steve growled.

"I'm not sorry." Mavis snarled. "He was a fraud, a swindler, and a rotten cheat. He got what he deserved." She cocked her head in triumph.

"But not this way, Mavis." Stacy shook her head. "He's gone, yes. And good riddance. But...but you just threw your whole life away all for one fleeting moment of satisfaction. Do you realize what this means? Was it really worth it?"

"He's gone to his reward." Mavis smirked. "It was worth every minute I spent planning and waiting and doing." Stacy cringed.

"I'm really sorry to hear that, Mavis." She huffed. "But, like you said, it's a free country. It was your choice."

"Uh-huh." Mavis nodded with a smug smile. "I'm sorry, Stacy, that you got in trouble."

Stacy pursed her lips and stared at the floor. "Yeah." She grunted, crossing her arms.

"Come on." Cheryl rolled her eyes, fed up with this whole mess, and she led Mavis away, leaving Steve alone for a moment with Mark and Stacy.

"I just can't believe it!" Stacy shook her head. "Mavis killed him? That's just...I don't know what to say."

"How about let's go home?" Mark suggested.

"Yes, let's!" Stacy sighed heavily.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you walk through this door, hon." Steve smiled warmly.

"No happier than I am." Stacy smiled back. "I guess that makes it double for us." Steve nodded.

"I'll be along later. I have some unfinished business that I _really_ want to wrap up." He smirked.

"We'll see you later, son." Mark smiled. Steve gripped Stacy's hand and patted her cheek, then walked away. Mark and Stacy finally made it outside. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply of the fresh, free air. Mark gave her a moment, tears filling his eyes with love and relief. Not only was he beyond grateful for this moment, but he knew exactly how it felt. They entered his Jaguar and left the parking lot.

"Ohhh, this feels so good!" Stacy laughed, rearing her head back in the front passenger's seat with her window open a bit and just enjoyed the passing breeze on her face. It was an addicting therapy, and a clear reminder that this was all real. Mark just smiled and shook his head as he drove on...home. He turned on one of their family favorite music tapes as they drove on the familiar PCH.


End file.
